-or?. 


&f  U 


Kalpfy  IDalbo  (gmerson 

JJetonb  Series. 


ESSAYS 


BY 


RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON 


SECOND  SERIES 


NEW  YORK 
T.   Y.   CROWELL  &  COMPANY 

46  EAST  FOURTEENTH  STREET 


CONTENTS. 


ESSAY   I. 

PAGE 

THE  POET  i 


ESSAY  II. 
EXPERIENCE 33 

ESSAY  III. 
CHARACTER 66 

ESSAY  IV. 
MANNERS 88 

ESSAY  V. 
GIFTS 118 

ESSAY  VI. 

NATURE 124 

iii 


iv  CONTENTS. 

ESSAY  VII. 

PAGE 

POLITICS 146 

ESSAY  VIII. 
NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST 165 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS,  DELIVERED  IN  CONCORD, 
MASS 185 


ESSAY    I. 

THE   POET. 

A  moody  child  and  wildly  wise 

Pursued  the  game  with  joyful  eyes, 

Which  chose,  like  meteors,  their  way, 

And  rived  the  dark  with  private  ray : 

They  overleapt  the  horizon's  edge, 

Searched  with  Apollo's  privilege  ; 

Through  man,  and  woman,  and  sea,  and  star, 

Saw  the  dance  of  nature  forward  far ; 

Through  worlds,  and  races,  and  terms,  and  times, 

Saw  musical  order,  and  pairing  rhymes. 


Olympian  bards  who  sung 
Divine  ideas  below, 
Which  always  find  us  young, 
And  always  keep  us  so. 

THOSE  who  are  esteemed  umpires  of  taste,  are 
often  persons  who  have  acquired  some  knowledge  of 
admired  pictures  or  sculptures,  and  have  an  incli 
nation  for  whatever  is  elegant ;  but  if  you  inquire 
whether  they  are  beautiful  souls,  and  whether  their 
own  acts  are  like  fair  pictures,  you  learn  that  they  are 
selfish  and  sensual.  Their  cultivation  is  local,  as  if 
you  should  rub  a  log  of  dry  wood  in  one  spot  to  pro 
duce  fire,  all  the  rest  remaining  cold.  Their  knowl 
edge  of  the  fine  arts  is  some  study  of  rules  and  par* 


2  THE  POET. 

ticulars,  or  some  limited  judgment  of  color  or  form, 
which  is  exercised  for  amusement  or  for  show.  It  is 
a  proof  of  the  shallowness  of  the  doctrine  of  beauty, 
as  it  lies  in  the  minds  of  our  amateurs,  that  men  seem 
to  have  lost  the  perception  of  the  instant  dependence 
of  form  upon  soul.  There  is  no  doctrine  of  forms  in 
our  philosophy.  We  were  put  into  our  bodies,  as  fire 
is  put  into  a  pan,  to  be  carried  about ;  but  there  is  no 
accurate  adjustment  between  the  spirit  and  the  organ, 
much  less  is  the  latter  the  germination  of  the  former. 
So  in  regard  to  other  forms,  the  intellectual  men  do 
not  believe  in  any  essential  dependence  of  the  ma 
terial  world  on  thought  and  volition.  Theologians 
think  it  a  pretty  air-castle  to  talk  of  the  spiritual 
meaning  of  a  ship  or  a  cloud,  of  a  city  or  a  contract, 
but  they  prefer  to  come  again  to  the  solid  ground  of 
historical  evidence ;  and  even  the  poets  are  contented 
with  a  civil  and  conformed  manner  of  living,  and  to 
write  poems  from  the  fancy,  at  a  safe  distance  from 
their  own  experience.  But  the  highest  minds  of  the 
world  have  never  ceased  to  explore  the  double  mean 
ing,  or,  shall  I  say,  the  quadruple,  or  the  centuple,  or 
much  more  manifold  meaning,  of  every  sensuous 
fact:  Orpheus,  Empedocles,  Heraclitus,  Plato,  Plu 
tarch,  Dante,  Swedenborg,  and  the  masters  of  sculp 
ture,  picture,  and  poetry.  For  we  are  not  pans  and 
barrows,  nor  even  porters  of  the  fire  and  torch- 
bearers,  but  children  of  the  fire,  made  of  it,  and  only 
the  same  divinity  transmuted,  and  at  two  or  three 
removes,  when  we  know  least  about  it.  And  this 
hidden  truth,  that  the  fountains  whence  all  this  river  of 
Time,  and  its  creatures,  floweth,  are  intrinsically 


THE  POET.  3 

ideal  and  beautiful,  draws  us  to  the  consideration  of 
the  nature  and  functions  of  the  Poet,  or  the  man  of 
Beauty,  to  the  means  and  materials  he  uses,  and  to 
the  general  aspect  of  the  art  in  the  present  time. 

The  breadth  of  the  problem  is  great,  for  the  poet 
is  representative.  He  stands  among  partial  men  for 
the  complete  man,  and  apprises  us  not  of  his  wealth, 
but  of  the  commonwealth.  The  young  man  reveres 
men  of  genius,  because,  to  speak  truly,  they  are  more 
himself  than  he  is.  They  receive  of  the  soul  as  he 
also  receives,  but  they  more.  Nature  enhances  her 
beauty,  to  the  eye  of  loving  men,  from  their  belief 
that  the  poet  is  beholding  her  shows  at  the  same 
time.  He  is  isolated  among  his  contemporaries,  by 
truth  and  by  his  art,  but  with  this  consolation  in  his 
pursuits,  that  they  will  draw  all  men  sooner  or  later. 
For  all  men  live  by  truth,  and  stand  in  need  of  ex 
pression.  In  love,  in  art,  in  avarice,  in  politics,  in 
labor,  in  games,  we  study  to  utter  our  painful  secret. 
The  man  is  only  half  himself,  the  other  half  is  his 
expression. 

Notwithstanding  this  necessity  to  be  published, 
adequate  expression  is  rare.  I  know  not  how  it  is 
that  we  need  an  interpreter :  but  the  great  majority 
of  men  seem  to  be  minors,  who  have  not  yet  come 
into  possession  of  their  own,  or  mutes,  who  cannot 
report  the  conversation  they  have  had  with  nature. 
There  is  no  man  who  does  not  anticipate  a  super- 
sensual  utility  in  the  sun,  and  stars,  earth,  and  water. 
These  stand  and  wait  to  render  him  a  peculiar  ser 
vice.  But  there  is  some  obstruction,  or  some  excess 
of  phlegm  in  our  constitution,  which  does  not  suffer 


4  THE  POET. 

them  to  yield  the  due  effect.  Too  feeble  fall  the  im 
pressions  of  nature  on  us  to  make  us  artists.  Every 
touch  should  thrill.  Every  man  should  be  so  much 
an  artist,  that  he  could  report  in  conversation  what 
had  befallen  him.  Yet,  in  our  experience,  the  rays  or 
appulses  have  sufficient  force  to  arrive  at  the  senses, 
but  not  enough  to  reach  the  quick,  and  compel  the 
reproduction  of  themselves  in  speech.  The  poet  is 
the  person  in  whom  these  powers  are  in  balance,  the 
man  without  impediment,  who  sees  and  handles  that 
which  others  dream  of,  traverses  the  whole  scale  of 
experience,  and  its  representative  of  man,  in  virtue 
of  being  the  largest  power  to  receive  and  to  impart. 

For  the  Universe  has  three  children,  born  at  one 
time,  which  reappear,  under  different  names,  in  every 
system  of  thought,  whether  they  be  called  cause, 
operation,  and  effect ;  or,  more  poetically,  Jove, 
Pluto,  Neptune ;  or,  theologically,  the  Father,  the 
Spirit,  and  the  Son ;  but  which  we  will  call  here,  the 
Knower,  the  Doer,  and  the  Sayer.  These  stand  re 
spectively  for  the  love  of  truth,  for  the  love  of  good, 
and  for  the  love  of  beauty.  These  three  are  equal. 
Each  is  that  which  he  is  essentially,  so  that  he  cannot 
be  surmounted  or  analyzed,  and  each  of  these  three 
has  the  power  of  the  others  latent  in  him,  and  his 
own  patent. 

The  poet  is  the  sayer,  the  namer,  and  represents 
beauty.  He  is  a  sovereign,  and  stands  on  the  centre. 
For  the  world  is  not  painted,  or  adorned,  but  is  from 
the  beginning  beautiful ;  and  God  has  not  made  some 
beautiful  things,  but  Beauty  is  the  creator  of  the 
universe.  Therefore  the  poet  is  not  any  permissive 


THE  POET.  $ 

potentate,  but  is  emperor  in  his  own  right.  Criticism 
is  infested  with  a  cant  of  materialism,  which  assumes 
that  manual  skill  and  activity  is  the  first  merit  of  all 
men,  and  disparages  such  as  say  and  do  not,  over 
looking  the  fact,  that  some  men,  namely,  poets,  are 
natural  sayers,  sent  into  the  world  to  the  end  of  ex 
pression,  and  confounds  them  with  those  whose 
province  is  action,  but  who  quit  it  to  imitate  the  say 
ers.  But  Homer's  words  are  as  costly  and  admirable 
to  Homer,  as  Agamemnon's  victories  are  to  Agamem 
non.  The  poet  does  not  wait  for  the  hero  or  the 
sage,  but,  as  they  act  and  think  primarily,  so  he 
writes  primarily  what  will  and  must  be  spoken,  reck 
oning  the  others,  though  primaries  also,  yet,  in  re 
spect  to  him,  secondaries  and  servants ;  as  sitters  or 
models  in  the  studio  of  a  painter,  or  as  assistants  who 
bring  building  materials  to  an  architect. 

For  poetry  was  all  written  before  time  was,  and 
whenever  we  are  so  finely  organized  that  we  can 
penetrate  into  that  region  where  the  air  is  music,  we 
hear  those  primal  warblings,  and  attempt  to  write 
them  down,  but  we  lose  ever  and  anon  a  word,  or  a 
verse,  and  substitute  something  of  our  own,  and  thus 
miswrite  the  poem.  The  men  of  more  delicate  ear 
write  down  these  cadences  more  faithfully,  and 
these  transcripts,  though  imperfect,  become  the 
songs  of  the  nations.  For  nature  is  as  truly  beau 
tiful  as  it  is  good,  or  as  it  is  reasonable,  and 
must  as  much  appear,  as  it  must  be  done,  or  be 
known.  Words  and  deeds  are  quite  indifferent 
modes  of  the  divine  energy.  Words  are  also  actions, 
and  actions  are  a  kind  of  words. 


6  THE  POET. 

The  sign  and  credentials  of  the  poet  are,  that  he 
announces  that  which  no  man  foretold.  He  is  the 
true  and  only  doctor ;  he  knows  and  tells  ;  he  is  the 
only  teller  of  news,  for  he  was  present  and  privy  to 
the  appearance  which  he  describes.  He  is  a  beholder 
of  ideas,  and  an  utterer  of  the  necessary  and  causal. 
For  we  do  not  speak  now  of  men  of  poetical  talents, 
or  of  industry  and  skill  in  metre,  but  of  the  true  poet. 
I  took  part  in  a  conversation  the  other  day,  concern 
ing  a  recent  writer  of  lyrics,  a  man  of  subtle  mind, 
whose  head  appeared  to  be  a  music-box  of  delicate 
tunes  and  rhythms,  and  whose  skill,  and  command  of 
language,  we  could  not  sufficiently  praise.  But  when 
the  question  arose,  whether  he  was  not  only  a  lyrist, 
but  a  poet,  we  were  obliged  to  confess  that  he  is 
plainly  a  contemporary,  not  an  eternal  man.  He 
does  not  stand  out  of  our  low  limitations,  like  a 
Chimborazo  under  the  line,  running  up  from  the  tor 
rid  base  through  all  the  climates  of  the  globe,  with 
belts  of  the  herbage  of  every  latitude  on  its  high  and 
mottled  sides ;  but  this  genius  is  the  landscape-gar 
den  of  a  modern  house,  adorned  with  fountains  and 
statues,  with  well-bred  men  and  women  standing  and 
sitting  in  the  walks  and  terraces.  We  hear,  through 
all  the  varied  music,  the  ground-tone  of  conventional 
life.  Our  poets  are  men  of  talents  who  sing,  and  not 
the  children  of  music.  The  argument  is  secondary, 
the  finish  of  the  verses  is  primary. 

For  it  is  not  metres,  but  a  metre-making  argument, 
that  makes  a  poem,  —  a  thought  so  passionate  and 
alive,  that,  like  the  spirit  of  a  plant  or  an  animal,  it 
has  an  architecture  of  its  own,  and  adorns  nature  with 


THE  POET.  7 

a  new  thing.  The  thought  and  the  form  are  equal  in 
the  order  of  time,  but  in  the  order  of  genesis  the 
thought  is  prior  to  the  form.  The  poet  has  a  new 
thought :  he  has  a  whole  new  experience  to  unfold ; 
he  will  tell  us  how  it  was  with  him,  and  all  men  will 
be  the  richer  in  his  fortune.  For,  the  experience  of 
each  new  age  requires  a  new  confession,  and  the 
world  seems  always  waiting  for  its  poet.  I  remember, 
when  I  was  young,  how  much  I  was  moved  one 
morning  by  tidings  that  genius  had  appeared  in  a 
youth  who  sat  near  me  at  table.  He  had  left  his 
work,  and  gone  rambling  none  knew  whither,  and 
had  written  hundreds  of  lines,  but  could  not  tell 
whether  that  which  was  in  him  was  therein  told :  he 
could  tell  nothing  but  that  all  was  changed,  —  man, 
beast,  heaven,  earth,  and  sea.  How  gladly  we  lis 
tened  !  how  credulous  !  Society  seemed  to  be  com 
promised.  We  sat  in  the  aurora  of  a  sunrise  which 
was  to  put  out  all  the  stars.  Boston  seemed  to  be  at 
twice  the  distance  it  had  the  night  before,  or  was 
much  farther  than  that.  Rome,  —  what  was  Rome  ? 
Plutarch  and  Shakspeare  were  in  the  yellow  leaf,  and 
Homer  no  more  should  be  heard  of.  It  is  much  to 
know  that  poetry  has  been  written  this  very  day,  un 
der  this  very  roof  by  your  side.  What !  that  wonder 
ful  spirit  has  not  expired !  these  stony  moments  are 
still  sparkling  and  animated !  I  had  fancied  that  the 
oracles  were  all  silent,  and  nature  had  spent  her  fires, 
and  behold!  all  night,  from  every  pore,  these  fine 
auroras  have  been  streaming.  Every  one  has  some 
interest  in  the  advent  of  the  poet,  and  no  one  knows 
how  much  it  may  concern  him.  We  know  that  the 


8  THE  POET. 

secret  of  the  world  is  profound,  but  who  or  what 
shall  be  our  interpreter,  we  know  not.  A  mountain 
ramble,  a  new  style  of  face,  a  new  person,  may  put 
the  key  into  our  hands.  Of  course,  the  value  of 
genius  to  us  is  in  the  veracity  of  its  report.  Talent 
may  frolic  and  juggle ;  genius  realizes  and  adds. 
Mankind,  in  good  earnest,  have  availed  so  far  in  un 
derstanding  themselves  and  their  work,  that  the 
foremost  watchman  on  the  peak  announces  his  news. 
It  is  the  truest  word  ever  spoken,  and  the  phrase  will 
be  the  fittest,  most  musical,  and  the  unerring  voice  of 
the  world  for  that  time. 

All  that  we  call  sacred  history  attests  that  the  birth 
of  a  poet  is  the  principal  event  in  chronology.  Man, 
never  so  often  deceived,  still  watches  for  the  arrival 
of  a  brother  who  can  hold  him  steady  to  a  truth,  until 
he  has  made  it  his  own.  With  what  joy  I  begin  to 
read  a  poem,  which  I  confide  in  as  an  inspiration! 
And  now  my  chains  are  to  be  broken  ;  I  shall  mount 
above  these  clouds  and  opaque  airs  in  which  I  live, 
—  opaque,  though  they  seem  transparent,  —  and  from 
the  heaven  of  truth  I  shall  see  and  comprehend  my 
relations.  That  will  reconcile  me  to  life,  and  reno 
vate  nature,  to  see  trifles  animated  by  a  tendency, 
and  to  know  what  I  am  doing.  Life  will  no  more  be 
a  noise ;  now  I  shall  see  men  and  women,  and  know 
the  signs  by  which  they  may  be  discerned  from  fools 
and  satans.  This  day  shall  be  better  than  my  birth 
day  :  then  I  became  an  animal :  now  I  am  invited 
into  the  science  of  the  real.  Such  is  the  hope,  but 
the  fruition  is  postponed.  Oftener  it  falls,  that  this 
winged  man,  who  will  carry  me  into  the  heaven,  whirls 


THE-  POET.  9 

me  into  the  clouds,  then  leaps  and  frisks  about  with 
me  from  cloud  to  cloud,  still  affirming  that  he  is  bound 
heavenward;  and  I,  being  myself  a  novice,  and  slow 
in  perceiving  that  he  does  not  know  the  way  into  the 
heavens,  and  is  merely  bent  that  I  should  admire  his 
skill  to  rise,  like  a  fowl  or  a  flying  fish,  a  little  way 
from  the  ground  or  the  water ;  but  the  all-piercing, 
all-feeding,  and  ocular  air  of  heaven,  that  man  shall 
never  inhabit.  I  tumble  down  again  soon  into  my 
old  nooks,  and  lead  the  life  of  exaggerations  as  before, 
and  have  lost  my  faith  in  the  possibility  of  any  guide 
who  can  lead  me  thither  where  I  would  be. 

But  leaving  these  victims  of  vanity,  let  us,  with 
new  hope,  observe  how  nature,  by  worthier  impulses, 
has  ensured  the  poet's  fidelity  to  his  office  of  announce 
ment  and  affirming,  namely,  by  the  beauty  of  things, 
which  becomes  a  new,  and  higher  beauty,  when 
expressed.  Nature  offers  all  her  creatures  to  him  as 
a  picture-language.  Being  used  as  a  type,  a  second 
wonderful  value  appears  in  the  object,  far  better  than 
its  old  value,  as  the  carpenter's  stretched  cord,  if  you 
hold  your  ear  close  enough,  is  musical  in  the  breeze. 

"Things  more  excellent  than  every  image,"  says 
Jamblichus,  "  are  expressed  through  images.11  Things 
admit  of  being  used  as  symbols,  because  nature  is 
a  symbol,  in  the  whole,  and  in  every  part.  Every 
line  we  can  draw  in  the  sand,  has  expression ;  and 
there  is  no  body  without  its  spirit  of  genius.  All 
form  is  an  effect  of  character ;  all  condition,  of  the 
quality  of  the  life }  all  harmony,  of  health ;  (and 
for  this  reason,  a  perception  of  beauty  should  be 
sympathetic,  or  proper  only  to  the  good).  The  beau- 


io  THE  POET. 

tiful  rests  on  the  foundations  of  the  necessary.  The 
soul  makes  the  body,  as  the  wise  Spenser  teaches  :  — 

So  every  spirit,  as  it  is  most  pure, 
And  hath  in  it  the  more  of  heavenly  light, 
So  it  the  fairer  body  doth  procure 
To  habit  in,  and  it  more  fairly  dight, 
With  cheerful  grace  and  amiable  sight. 
For,  of  the  soul,  the  body  form  doth  take, 
For  soul  is  form,  and  doth  the  body  make. 

Here  we  find  ourselves,  suddenly,  not  in  a  critical 
speculation,  but  in  a  holy  place,  and  should  go  very 
warily  and  reverently.  We  stand  before  the  secret 
of  the  world,  there  where  Being  passes  into  Appear 
ance,  and  Unity  into  Variety. 

The  Universe  is  the  externization  of  the  soul. 
Wherever  the  life  is,  that  bursts  into  appearance 
around  it.  Our  science  is  sensual,  and  therefore 
superficial.  The  earth,  and  the  heavenly  bodies, 
physics,  and  chemistry,  we  sensually  treat,  as  if  they 
were  self-existent ;  but  these  are  the  retinue  of  that 
Being  we  have.  **  The  mighty  heaven,"  said  Proclus, 
"  exhibits,  in  its  transfigurations,  clear  images  of  the 
splendor  of  intellectual  perceptions  ;  being  moved  in 
conjunction  with  the  unapparent  periods  of  intel 
lectual  natures."  Therefore,  science  always  goes 
abreast  with  the  just  elevation  of  the  man,  keeping 
step  with  religion  and  metaphysics ;  or,  the  state  of 
science  is  an  index  of  our  self-knowledge.  Since 
every  thing  in  nature  answers  to  a  moral  power,  if  any 
phenomenon  remains  brute  and  dark,  it  is  that  the 
corresponding  faculty  in  the  observer  is  not  yet 
active. 


THE  POET.  II 

No  wonder,  then,  if  these  waters  be  so  deep,  that 
we  hover  over  them  with  a  religious  regard.  The 
beauty  of  the  fable  proves  the  importance  of  the 
sense;  to  the  poet,  and  to  all  others;  or  if  you 
please,  every  man  is  so  far  a  poet  as  to  be  susceptible 
of  these  enchantments  of  nature :  for  all  men  have 
the  thoughts  whereof  the  universe  is  the  celebration. 
I  find  that  the  fascination  resides  in  the  symbol.  Who 
loves  nature  ?  Who  does  not  ?  Is  it  only  poets, 
and  men  of  leisure  and  cultivation,  who  live  with 
her  ?  No ;  but  also  hunters,  farmers,  grooms,  and 
butchers,  though  they  express  their  affection  in  their 
choice  of  life,  and  not  in  their  choice  of  words. 
The  writer  wonders  what  the  coachman  or  the  hunter 
values  in  riding,  in  horses,  and  dogs.  It  is  not  super 
ficial  qualities.  When  you  talk  with  him,  he  holds 
these  at  as  slight  a  rate  as  you.  His  worship  is 
sympathetic ;  he  has  no  definitions,  but  he  is  com 
manded  in  nature,  by  the  living  power  which  he  feels 
to  be  there  present.  No  imitation,  or  playing  of  these 
things,  would  content  him  ;  he  loves  the  earnest  of  the 
northwind,  of  rain,  of  stone,  and  wood,  and  iron.  A 
beauty  not  explicable,  is  dearer  than  a  beauty  which 
we  can  see  to  the  end  of.  It  is  nature  the  symbol, 
nature  certifying  the  supernatural,  body  overflowed 
by  life,  which  he  worships,  with  coarse,  but  sincere 
rites. 

The  inwardness  and  mystery  of  this  attachment, 
drives  men  of  every  class  to  the  use  of  emblems. 
The  schools  of  poets,  and  philosophers,  are  not  more 
intoxicated  with  their  symbols,  than  the  populace 
with  theirs.  In  our  political  parties,  compute  the 


12  THE  POET. 

power  of  badges  and  emblems.  See  the  great  ball 
which  they  roll  from  Baltimore  to  Bunker  Hill !  In 
the  political  processions,  Lowell  goes  in  a  loom,  and 
Lynn  in  a  shoe,  and  Salem  in  a  ship.  Witness  the 
cider-barrel,  the  log  cabin,  the  hickory-stick,  the 
palmetto,  and  all  the  cognizances  of  party.  See 
the  power  of  national  emblems.  Some  stars,  lilies, 
leopards,  a  crescent,  a  lion,  an  eagle,  or  other  figure, 
which  came  into  credit  God  knows  how,  on  an  old 
rag  of  bunting,  blowing  in  the  wind,  on  a  fort,  at  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  shall  make  the  blood  tingle  under 
the  rudest,  or  the  most  conventional  exterior.  The 
people  fancy  they  hate  poetry,  and  they  are  all  poets 
and  mystics  ! 

Beyond  this  universality  of  the  symbolic  language, 
we  are  apprised  of  the  divineness  of  this  superior  use 
of  things,  whereby  the  world  is  a  temple,  whose  walls 
are  covered  with  emblems,  pictures,  and  command 
ments  of  the  Deity,  in  this,  that  there  is  no  fact  in 
nature  which  does  not  carry  the  whole  sense  of  nature ; 
and  the  distinctions  which  we  make  in  events,  and  in 
affairs,  of  low  and  high,  honest  and  base,  disappear 
when  nature  is  used  as  a  symbol.  Thought  makes 
every  thing  fit  for  use.  The  vocabulary  of  an  omni 
scient  man  would  embrace  words  and  images  excluded 
from  polite  conversation.  What  would  be  base,  or 
even  obscene,  to  the  obscene,  becomes  illustrious, 
spoken  in  a  new  connection  of  thought.  The  piety 
of  the  Hebrew  prophets  purges  their  grossness.  The 
circumcision  is  an  example  of  the  power  of  poetry  to 
raise  the  low  and  offensive.  Small  and  mean  things 
serve  as  well  as  great  symbols.  The  meaner  the 


THE  POET.  13 

type  by  which  a  law  is  expressed,  the  more  pungent 
it  is,  and  the  more  lasting  in  the  memories  of  men : 
just  as  we  choose  the  smallest  box,  or  case,  in  which 
any  needful  utensil  can  be  carried.  Bare  lists  of 
words  are  found  suggestive,  to  an  imaginative  and 
excited  mind ;  as  it  is  related  of  Lord  Chatham,  that 
he  was  accustomed  to  read  in  Bailey's  Dictionary, 
when  he  was  preparing  to  speak  in  Parliament.  The 
poorest  experience  is  rich  enough  for  all  the  purposes 
of  expressing  thought.  Why  covet  a  knowledge  of 
new  facts  ?  Day  and  night,  house  and  garden,  a  few 
books,  a  few  actions,  serve  us  as  well  as  would  all 
trades  and  all  spectacles.  We  are  far  from  having 
exhausted  the  significance  of  the  few  symbols  we 
use.  We  can  come  to  use  them  yet  with  a  terrible 
simplicity.  It  does  not  need  that  a  poem  should  be 
long.  Every  word  was  once  a  poem.  Every  new 
relation  is  a  new  word.  Also,  we  use  defects  and 
deformities  to  a  sacred  purpose,  so  expressing  our 
sense  that  the  evils  of  the  world  are  such  only  to 
the  evil  eye.  In  the  old  mythology,  mythologists 
observe,  defects  are  ascribed  to  divine  natures,  as 
lameness  to  Vulcan,  blindness  to  Cupid,  and  the  like, 
to  signify  exuberances. 

For,  as  it  is  dislocation  and  detachment  from  the 
life  of  God,  that  makes  things  ugly,  the  poet,  who 
re-attaches  things  to  nature  and  the  Whole,  —  re- 
attaching  even  artificial  things  and  violations  of 
nature,  to  nature,  by  a  deeper  insight  — disposes  very 
easily  of  the  most  disagreeable  facts.  Readers  of 
poetry  see  the  factory- village,  and  the  railway,  and 
fancy  that  the  poetry  of  the  landscape  is  broken  up 


14  THE  POET. 

by  these ;  for  these  works  of  art  are  not  yet  conse 
crated  in  their  readings ;  but  the  poet  sees  them  fall 
within  the  great  Order  not  less  than  the  bee-hive,  or 
the  spider's  geometrical  web.  Nature  adopts  them 
very  fast  into  her  vital  circles,  and  the  gliding  train 
of  cars  she  loves  like  her  own.  Besides,  in  a  centred 
mind,  it  signifies  nothing  how  many  mechanical 
inventions  you  exhibit.  Though  you  add  millions, 
and  never  so  surprising,  the  fact  of  mechanics  has 
not  gained  a  grain's  weight.  The  spiritual  fact 
remains  unalterable,  by  many  or  by  few  particulars ; 
as  no  mountain  is  of  any  appreciable  height  to  break 
the  curve  of  the  sphere.  A  shrewd  country-boy  goes 
to  the  city  for  the  first  time,  and  the  complacent  citizen 
is  not  satisfied  with  his  little  wonder.  It  is  not  that 
he  does  not  see  all  the  fine  houses,  and  know  that  he 
never  saw  such  before,  but  he  disposes  of  them  as 
easily  as  the  poet  finds  place  for  the  railway.  The 
chief  value  of  the  new  fact,  is  to  enhance  the  great 
and  constant  fact  of  Life,  which  can  dwarf  any  and 
every  circumstance,  and  to  which  the  belt  of  wampum, 
and  the  commerce  of  America,  are  alike. 

The  world  being  thus  put  under  the  mind  for  verb 
and  noun,  the  poet  is  he  who  can  articulate  it.  For, 
though  life  is  great,  and  fascinates,  and  absorbs, — 
and  though  all  men  are  intelligent  of  the  symbols 
through  which  it  is  named,  —  yet  they  cannot  origi 
nally  use  them.  We  are  symbols,  and  inhabit  sym 
bols  ;  workman,  work,  and  tools,  words  and  things, 
birth  and  death,  all  are  emblems  ;  but  we  sympathize 
with  the  symbols,  and,  being  infatuated  with  the 
economical  uses  of  things,  we  do  not  know  that  they 


THE  POET.  15 

are  thoughts.  The  poet,  by  an  ulterior  intellectual 
perception,  gives  them  a  power  which  makes  their  old 
use  forgotten,  and  puts  eyes,  and  a  tongue  into  every 
dumb  and  inanimate  object.  He  perceives  the  inde 
pendence  of  the  thought  on  the  symbol,  the  stability 
of  the  thought,  the  accidency  and  fugacity  of  the 
symbol.  As  the  eyes  of  Lyncasus  were  said  to  see 
through  the  earth,  so  the  poet  turns  the  world  to 
glass,  and  shows  us  all  things  in  their  right  series 
and  procession.  For,  through  that  better  perception, 
he  stands  one  step  nearer  to  things,  and  sees  the 
flowing  or  metamorphosis ;  perceives  that  thought  is 
multiform  ;  that  within  the  form  of  every  creature  is  a 
force  impelling  it  to  ascend  into  a  higher  form ;  and, 
following  with  his  eyes  the  life,  uses  the  forms  which 
express  that  life,  and  so  his  speech  flows  with  the 
flowing  of  nature.  All  the  facts  of  the  animal  econ 
omy,  sex,  nutriment,  gestation,  birth,  growth,  are 
symbols  of  the  passage  of  the  world  into  the  soul  of 
man,  to  suffer  there  a  change,  and  reappear  a  new 
and  higher  fact.  He  uses  forms  according  to  the  life, 
and  not  according  to  the  form.  This  is  true  science. 
The  poet  alone  knows  astronomy,  chemistry,  vegeta 
tion,  and  animation,  for  he  does  not  stop  at  these 
facts,  but  employs  them  as  signs.  He  knows  why  the 
plain,  or  meadow  of  space,  was  strown  with  these 
flowers  we  call  suns,  and  moons,  and  stars ;  why  the 
great  deep  is  adorned  with  animals,  with  men,  and 
gods ;  for,  in  every  word  he  speaks  he  rides  on  them 
as  the  horses  of  thought. 

By  virtue  of  this  science  the  poet  is  the  Namer,  or 
Language-maker,  naming  things  sometimes  after  their 


1 6  THE  POET. 

appearance,  sometimes  after  their  essence,  and  giving 
to  every  one  its  own  name  and  not  another's,  thereby 
rejoicing  the  intellect,  which  delights  in  detachment 
or  boundary.  The  poets  made  all  the  words,  and 
therefore  language  is  the  archives  of  history,  and,  if 
we  must  say  it,  a  sort  of  tomb  of  the  muses.  For, 
though  the  origin  of  most  of  our  words  is  forgotten, 
each  word  was  at  first  a  stroke  of  genius,  and  obtained 
currency,  because  for  the  moment  it  symbolized  the 
world  to  the  first  speaker  and  to  the  hearer.  The 
etymologist  finds  the  deadest  word  to  have  been  once 
a  brilliant  picture.  Language  is  fossil  poetry.  As 
the  limestone  of  the  continent  consists  of  infinite 
masses  of  the  shells  of  animalcules,  so  language  is 
made  up  of  images,  or  tropes,  which  now,  in  their 
secondary  use,  have  long  ceased  to  remind  us  of  their 
poetic  origin.  But  the  poet  names  the  thing  because 
he  sees  it,  or  comes  one  step  nearer  to  it  than  any 
other.  This  expression  or  naming,  is  not  art,  but  a 
second  nature,  grown  out  of  the  first,  as  a  leaf  out  of 
a  tree.  What  we  call  nature,  is  a  certain  self-regu 
lated  motion,  or  change ;  and  nature  does  all  things 
by  her  own  hands,  and  does  not  leave  another  to  bap 
tize  her,  but  baptizes  herself;  and  this  through  the 
metamorphosis  again.  I  remember  that  a  certain 
poet  described  it  to  me  thus  : 

Genius  is  the  activity  which  repairs  the  decays  of 
things,  whether  wholly  or  partly  of  a  material  and 
finite  kind.  Nature,  through  all  her  kingdoms,  in 
sures  herself.  Nobody  cares  for  planting  the  poor 
fungus :  so  she  shakes  down  from  the  gills  of  one 


THE  POET.  17 

agaric  countless  spores,  any  one  of  which,  being  pre 
served,  transmits  new  billions  of  spores  to-morrow  or 
next  day.  The  new  agaric  of  this  hour  has  a  chance 
which  the  old  one  had  not.  This  atom  of  seed  is 
thrown  into  a  new  place,  not  subject  to  the  accidents 
which  destroyed  its  parent  two  rods  off.  She  makes 
a  man  ;  and  having  brought  him  to  ripe  age,  she  will 
no  longer  run  the  risk  of  losing  this  wonder  at  a  blow, 
but  she  detaches  from  him  a  new  self,  that  the  kind 
may  be  safe  from  accidents  to  which  the  individual  is 
exposed.  So  when  the  soul  of  the  poet  has  come  to 
ripeness  of  thought  she  detaches  and  sends  away 
from  it  its  poems  or  songs,  —  a  fearless,  sleepless, 
deathless  progeny,  which  is  not  exposed  to  the  acci 
dents  of  the  weary  kingdom  of  time  :  a  fearless,  viva 
cious  offspring,  clad  with  wings  (such  was  the  virtue 
of  the  soul  out  of  which  they  came),  which  carry  them 
fast  and  far,  and  infix  them  irrecoverably  into  the 
hearts  of  men.  These  wings  are  the  beauty  of  the 
poefs  soul.  The  songs,  thus  flying  immortal  from 
their  mortal  parent,  are  pursued  by  clamorous  flights 
of  censures,  which  swarm  in  far  greater  numbers,  and 
threaten  to  devour  them;  but  these  last  are  not 
winged.  At  the  end  of  a  very  short  leap  they  fall 
plump  down,  and  rot,  having  received  from  the  souls* 
out  of  which  they  came  no  beautiful  wings.  But  the 
melodies  of  the  poet  ascend,  and  leap,  and  pierce  into 
the  deeps  of  infinite  time. 

So  far  the  bard  taught  me,  using  his  freer  speech. 
But  nature  has  a  higher  end,  in  the  production  of  new 
individuals,  than  security,  namely,  ascension,  or,  the 


1 8  THE  POET. 

passage  of  the  soul  into  higher  forms.  I  knew,  in  my 
younger  days,  the  sculptor  who  made  the  statue  of 
the  youth  which  stands  in  the  public  garden.  He 
was,  as  I  remember,  unable  to  tell  directly,  what 
made  him  happy,  or  unhappy,  but  by  wonderful  indi 
rections  he  could  tell.  He  rose  one  day,  according 
to  his  habit,  before  the  dawn,  and  saw  the  morning 
break,  grand  as  the  eternity  out  of  which  it  came, 
and,  for  many  days  after,  he  strove  to  express  this 
tranquillity,  and,  lo !  his  chisel  had  fashioned  out  of 
marble  the  form  of  a  beautiful  youth,  Phosphorus, 
whose  aspect  is  such,  that,  it  is  said,  all  persons  who 
look  on  it  become  silent.  The  poet  also  resigns  him 
self  to  his  mood,  and  that  thought  which  agitated  him 
is  expressed,  but  alter  idem  in  a  manner  totally  new. 
The  expression  is  organic,  or,  the  new  type  which 
things  themselves  take  when  liberated.  As,  in  the 
sun,  objects  paint  their  images  on  the  retina  of  the 
eye,  so  they,  sharing  the  aspiration  of  the  whole  uni 
verse,  tend  to  paint  a  far  more  delicate  copy  of  their 
essence  in  his  mind.  Like  the  metamorphosis  of 
things  into  higher  organic  forms,  is  their  change  into 
melodies.  Over  every  thing  stands  its  daemon,  or 
soul,  and,  as  the  form  of  the  thing  is  reflected  by  the 
eye,  so  the  soul  of  the  thing  is  reflected  by  a  melody. 
The  sea,  the  mountain-ridge,  Niagara,  and  every 
flower-bed,  pre-exist,  or  super-exist,  in  pre-cantations, 
which  sail  like  odors  in  the  air,  and  when  any  man 
goes  by  with  an  ear  sufficiently  fine,  he  overhears 
them,  and  endeavors  to  write  down  the  notes,  without 
diluting  or  depraving  them.  And  herein  is  the  legit 
imation  of  criticism,  in  the  mind's  faith,  that  the 


THE  POET.  19 

poems  are  a  corrupt  version  of  some  text  in  nature, 
with  which  they  ought  to  be  made  to  tally.  A  rhyme 
in  one  of  our  sonnets  should  not  be  less  pleasing  than 
the  iterated  nodes  of  a  sea-shell,  or  the  resembling 
difference  of  a  group  of  flowers.  The  pairing  of  the 
birds  is  an  idyl,  not  tedious  as  our  idyls  are ;  a  tem 
pest  is  a  rough  ode,  without  falsehood  or  rant:  a 
summer,  with  its  harvest  sown,  reaped,  and  stored, 
is  an  epic  song,  subordinating  how  many  admirably 
executed  parts.  Why  should  not  the  symmetry  and 
truth  that  modulate  these,  glide  into  our  spirits,  and 
we  participate  the  invention  of  nature  ? 

This  insight,  which  expresses  itself  by  what  is 
called  Imagination,  is  a  very  high  sort  of  seeing, 
which  does  not  come  by  study,  but  by  the  intellect 
being  where  and  what  it  sees,  by  sharing  the  path, 
or  circuit  of  things  through  forms,  and  so  making 
them  translucid  to  others.  The  path  of  things  is 
silent.  Will  they  suffer  a  speaker  to  go  with  them  ? 
A  spy  they  will  not  suffer ;  a  lover,  a  poet,  is  the 
transcendency  of  their  own  nature,  —  him  they  will 
suffer.  The  condition  of  true  naming,  on  the  poet's 
part,  is  his  resigning  himself  to  the  divine  aura 
which  breathes  through  forms,  and  accompanying 
that. 

It  is  a  secret  which  every  intellectual  man  quickly 
learns,  that,  beyond  the  energy  of  his  possessed  and 
conscious  intellect,  he  is  capable  of  a  new  energy 
(as  of  an  intellect  doubled  on  itself),  by  abandon 
ment  to  the  nature  of  things ;  that,  beside  his  pri 
vacy  of  power  as  an  individual  man,  there  is  a  great 
public  power,  on  which  he  can  draw,  by  unlocking, 


20  THE  POET. 

at  all  risks,  his  human  doors,  and  suffering  the  ethe 
real  tides  to  roll  and  circulate  through  him  :  then  he 
is  caught  up  into  the  life  of  the  Universe,  his  speech 
is  thunder,  his  thought  is  law,  and  his  words  are 
universally  intelligible  as  the  plants  and  animals. 
The  poet  knows  that  he  speaks  adequately,  then, 
only  when  he  speaks  somewhat  wildly,  or,  "  with  the 
flower  of  the  mind ;  "  not  with  the  intellect,  used  as 
an  organ,  but  with  the  intellect  released  from  all  ser 
vice,  and  suffered  to  take  its  direction  from  its  celes 
tial  life ;  or,  as  the  ancients  were  wont  to  express 
themselves,  not  with  intellect  alone,  but  with  the  in 
tellect  inebriated  by  nectar.  As  the  traveller  who 
has  lost  his  way,  throws  his  reins  on  his  horse's  neck, 
and  trusts  to  the  instinct  of  the  animal  to  find  his 
road,  so  must  we  do  with  the  divine  animal  who 
carries  us  through  this  world.  For  if  in  any  manner 
we  can  stimulate  this  instinct,  new  passages  are 
opened  for  us  into  nature,  the  mind  flows  into  and 
through  things  hardest  and  highest,  and  the  meta 
morphosis  is  possible. 

This  is  the  reason  why  bards  love  wine,  mead, 
narcotics,  coffee,  tea,  opium,  the  fumes  of  sandal- 
wood  and  tobacco,  or  whatever  other  species  of  ani 
mal  exhilaration.  All  men  avail  themselves  of  such 
means  as  they  can,  to  add  this  extraor&inary  power 
to  their  normal  powers ;  and  to  this  end  they  prize 
conversation,  music,  pictures,  sculpture,  dancing, 
theatres,  travelling,  war,  mobs,  fires,  gaming,  poli 
tics,  or  love,  or  science,  or  animal  intoxication, 
which  are  several  coarser  or  finer  guasi-mechanical 
substitutes  for  the  true  n.ectar,  which  is  the  ravish- 


THE  POET.  21 

ment  of  the  intellect  by  coming  nearer  to  the  fact. 
These  are  auxiliaries  to  the  centrifugal  tendency  of 
a  man,  to  his  passage  out  into  free  space,  and  they 
help  him  to  escape  the  custody  of  that  body  in  which 
he  is  pent  up,  and  of  that  jail-yard  of  individual  re 
lations  in  which  he  is  enclosed.  Hence  a  great  num 
ber  of  such  as  were  professionally  expressors  of 
Beauty,  as  painters,  poets,  musicians,  and  actors, 
have  been  more  than  others  wont  to  lead  a  life  of 
pleasure  and  indulgence ;  all  but  the  few  who  re 
ceived  the  true  nectar;  and,  as  it  was  a  spurious 
mode  of  -obtaining  freedom,  an  emancipation  not 
into  the  heavens,  but  into  the  freedom  of  baser 
places,  they  were  punished  for  that  advantage  they 
won,  by  a  dissipation  and  deterioration.  But  never 
can  any  advantage  be  taken  of  nature  by  a  trick. 
The  spirit  of  the  world,  the  great  calm  presence  of  the 
creator,  comes  not  forth  to  the  sorceries  of  opium  or 
of  wine.  The  sublime  vision  comes  to  the  pure  and 
simple  soul  in  a  clean  and  chaste  body.  That  is 
not  an  inspiration  which  we  owe  to  narcotics,  but 
some  counterfeit  excitement  and  fury.  Milton  says, 
that  the  lyric  poet  may  drink  wine  and  live  gener 
ously,  but  the  epic  poet,  he  who  shall  sing  of  the 
gods,  and  their  descent  unto  men,  must  drink  water 
out  of  a  wooden  bowl. 

For  poetry  is  not  '  Devil's  wine,'  but  God's  wine. 
It  is  with  this  as  it  is  with  toys.  We  fill  the  hands 
and  nurseries  of  our  children  with  all  manner  of 
dolls,  drums,  and  horses,  withdrawing  their  eyes  from 
the  plain  face  and  sufficing  object  of  nature,  the  sun, 
and  moon,  the  animals,  the  water,  and  stones,  which 


22  THE  POET. 

should  be  their  toys.  So  the  poet's  habit  of  living 
should  be  set  on  a  key  so  low  and  plain,  that  the 
common  influences  should  delight  him.  His  cheer 
fulness  should  be  the  gift  of  the  sunlight;  the  air 
should  suffice  for  his  inspiration,  and  he  should  be 
tipsy  with  water.  That  spirit  which  suffices  quiet 
hearts,  which  seems  to  come  forth  to  such  from 
every  dry  knoll  of  sere  grass,  from  every  pine-stump, 
and  half-imbedded  stone,  on  which  the  dull  March 
sun  shines,  comes  forth  to  the  poor  and  hungry,  and 
such  as  are  of  simple  taste.  If  thou  fill  thy  brain 
with  Boston  and  New  York,  with  fashion  and  covet- 
ousness,  and  wilt  stimulate  thy  jaded  senses  with 
wine  and  French  coffee,  thou  shalt  find  no  radiance 
of  wisdom  in  the  lonely  waste  of  the  pinewoods. 

If  the  imagination  intoxicates  the  poet,  it  is  not 
inactive  in  other  men.  The  metamorphosis  excites 
in  the  beholder  an  emotion  of  joy. 

The  use  of  symbols  has  a  certain  power  of  eman 
cipation  and  exhilaration  for  all  men.  We  seem  to 
be  touched  by  a  wand,  which  makes  us  dance  and 
run  about  happily,  like  children.  We  are  like  per 
sons  who  come  out  of  a  cave  or  cellar  into  the  open 
air.  This  is  the  effect  on  us  of  tropes,  fables,  ora 
cles,  and  all  poetic  forms.  Poets  are  thus  liberating 
gods.  Men  have  really  got  a  new  sense,  and  found 
within  their  world,  another  world  or  nest  of  worlds ; 
for  the  metamorphosis  once  seen,  we  divine  that  it 
does  not  stop.  I  will  not  now  consider  how  much 
this  makes  the  charm  of  algebra  and  the  mathematics, 
which  also  have  their  tropes,  but  it  is  felt  in  every 
definition ;  as,  when  Aristotle  defines  space  to  be  an 


THE  POET.  23 

immovable  vessel,  in  which  things  are  contained;  — 
or,  when  Plato  defines  a  line  to  be  a  flowing  point ; 
or,  figure  to  be  a  bound  of  solid ;  and  many  the  like. 
What  a  joyful  sense  of  freedom  we  have,  when  Vitru- 
vius  announces  the  old  opinion  of  artists,  that  no 
architect  can  build  any  house  well,  who  does  not 
know  something  of  anatomy.  When  Socrates,  in 
Charmides,  tells  us  that  the  soul  is  cured  of  its  mal 
adies  by  certain  incantations,  and  that  these  incan 
tations  are  beautiful  reasons,  from  which  temper 
ance  is  generated  in  souls ;  when  Plato  calls  the 
world  an  animal ;  and  Timaeus  affirms  that  the  plants 
also  are  animals ;  or  affirms  a  man  to  be  a  heavenly 
tree,  growing  with  his  root,  which  is  his  head,  up 
ward  ;  and,  as  George  Chapman,  following  him, 
writes,  — 

So  in  our  tree  of  man,  whose  nervie  root 
Springs  in  his  top ; 

when  Orpheus  speaks  of  hoariness  as  "  that  white 
flower  which  marks  extreme  old  age ; "  when  Pro- 
clus  calls  the  universe  the  statue  of  the  intellect; 
when  Chaucer,  in  his  praise  of  '  Gentilesse,'  com 
pares  good  blood  in  mean  condition  to  lire,  which, 
though  carried  to  the  darkest  house  betwixt  this  and 
the  mount  of  Caucasus,  will  yet  hold  its  natural  office, 
and  burn  as  bright  as  if  twenty  thousand  men  did 
it  behold;  when  John  saw,  in  the  apocalypse,  the 
ruin  of  the  world  through  evil,  and  the  stars  fall  from 
heaven,  as  the  figtree  casteth  her  untimely  fruit ; 
when  yEsop  reports  the  whole  catalogue  of  common 
daily  relations  through  the  masquerade  of  birds  and 


2 4  THE  POET. 

beasts;  —  we  take  the  cheerful  hint  of  the  immortality 
of  our  essence,  and  its  versatile  habit  and  escapes, 
as  when  the  gypsies  say,  "it  is  vain  to  hang  them, 
they  cannot  die." 

The  poets  are  thus  liberating  gods.  The  ancient 
British  bards  had  for  the  title  of  their  order,  "  Those 
who  are  free  throughout  the  world."  They  are  free, 
and  they  make  free.  An  imaginative  book  renders 
us  much  more  service  at  first,  by  stimulating  us 
through  its  tropes,  than  afterward,  when  we  arrive  at 
the  precise  sense  of  the  author.  I  think  nothing  is 
of  any  value  in  books,  excepting  the  transcendental 
and  extraordinary.  If  a  man  is  inflamed  and  carried 
away  by  his  thought,  to  that  degree  that  he  forgets 
the  authors  and  the  public,  and  heeds  only  this  one 
dream,  which  holds  him  like  an  insanity,  let  me  read 
his  paper,  and  you  may  have  all  the  arguments  and 
histories  and  criticism.  All  the  value  which  attaches 
to  Pythagoras,  Paracelsus,  Cornelius  Agrippa,  Car 
dan,  Kepler;  Swedenborg,  Schelling,  Oken,  or  any 
other  who  introduces  questionable  facts  into  his  cos 
mogony,  as  angels,  devils,  magic,  astrology,  palm 
istry,  mesmerism,  and  so  on,  is  the  certificate  we 
have  of  departure  from  routine,  and  that  here  is  a 
new  witness.  That  also  is  the  best  success  in  con 
versation,  the  magic  of  liberty,  which  puts  the  world 
like  a  ball,  in  our  hands.  How  cheap  even  the  liberty 
then  seems;  how  mean  to  study,  when  an  emotion 
communicates  to  the  intellect  the  power  to  sap  and 
upheave  nature  :  how  great  the  perspective !  nations, 
times,  systems,  enter  and  disappear  like  threads  in 
tapestry  of  large  figure  and  many  colors ;  dream  de- 


THE   POET.  25 

livers  us  to  dream,  and,  while  the  drunkenness  lasts, 
we  will  sell  our  bed,  our  philosophy,  our  religion,  in 
our  opulence. 

There  is  good  reason  why  we  should  prize  this 
liberation.  The  fate  of  the  poor  shepherd,  who, 
blinded  and  lost  in  the  snow-storm,  perishes  in  a 
drift  within  a  few  feet  of  his  cottage  door,  is  an 
emblem  of  the  state  of  man.  On  the  brink  of  the 
waters  of  life  and  truth,  we  are  miserably  dying. 
The  inaccessibleness  of  every  thought  but  that  we 
are  in,  is  wonderful.  What  if  you  come  near  to  it, 
—  you  are  as  remote,  when  you  are  nearest,  as  when 
you  are  farthest.  Every  thought  is  also  a  prison; 
every  heaven  is  also  a  prison.  Therefore  we  love 
the  poet,  the  inventor,  who  in  any  form,  whether  in 
an  ode,  or  in  an  action,  or  in  looks  and  behavior, 
has  yielded  us  a  new  thought.  He  unlocks  our 
chains,  and  admits  us  to  a  new  scene. 

This  emancipation  is  dear  to  all  men,  and  the 
power  to  impart  it,  as  it  must  come  from  greater 
depth  and  scope  of  thought,  is  a  measure  of  intellect. 
Therefore  all  books  of  the  imagination  endure,  all 
which  ascend  to  that  truth,  that  the  writer  sees 
nature  beneath  him,  and  uses  it  as  his  exponent. 
Every  verse  or  sentence,  possessing  this  virtue,  will 
take  care  of  its  own  immortality.  The  religions  of 
the  world  are  the  ejaculations  of  a  few  imaginative 
men. 

But  the  quality  of  the  imagination  is  to  flow,  and 
not  to  freeze.  The  poet  did  not  stop  at  the  color, 
or  the  form,  but  read  their  meaning;  neither  may 
he  rest  in  this  meaning;  but  he  makes  the  same 


26  THE  POET. 

objects  exponents  of  his  new  thought.  Here  is  the 
difference  betwixt  the  poet  and  the  mystic,  that  the 
last  nails  a  symbol  to  one  sense,  which  was  a  true 
sense  for  a  moment,  but  soon  becomes  old  and  false. 
For  all  symbols  are  fluxional ;  all  language  is  ve 
hicular  and  transitive,  and  is  good,  as  ferries  and 
horses  are,  for  conveyance,  not  as  farms  and  houses 
are,  for  homestead.  Mysticism  consists  in  the  mis 
take  of  an  accidental  and  individual  symbol  for  an 
universal  one.  The  morning-redness  happens  to  be 
the  favorite  meteor  to  the  eyes  of  Jacob  Behman, 
and  comes  to  stand  to  him  for  truth  and  faith ;  and 
he  believes  should  stand  for  the  same  realities  to 
every  reader.  But  the  first  reader  prefers  as  naturally 
the  symbol  of  a  mother  and 'child,  or  a  gardener  and 
his  bulb,  or  a  jeweller  polishing  a  gem.  Either  of 
these,  or  of  a  myriad  more,  are  equally  good  to  the 
person  to  whom  they  are  significant.  Only  they 
must  be  held  lightly,  and  be  very  willingly  translated 
into  the  equivalent  terms  which  others  use.  And  the 
mystic  must  be  steadily  told,  —  All  that'  you  say  is 
just  as  true  without  the  tedious  use  of  that  symbol  as 
with  it.  Let  us  have  a  little  algebra,  instead  of  this 
trite  rhetoric,  —  universal  signs,  instead  of  these  vil 
lage  symbols,  —  and  we  shall  both  be  gainers.  The 
history  of  hierarchies  seems  to  show,  that  all  religious 
error  consisted  in  making  the  symbol  too  stark  and 
solid,  and,  at  last,  nothing  but  an  excess  of  the  organ 
of  language. 

Swedenborg,  of  all  men  in  the  recent  ages,  stands 
eminently  for  the  translator  of  nature  into  thought. 
I  do  not  know  the  man  in  history  to  whom  things 


THE  POET.  27 

stood  so  uniformly  for  words.  Before  him  the  meta 
morphosis  continually  plays.  Every  thing  on  which 
his  eye  rests,  obeys  the  impulses  of  moral  nature. 
The  figs  become  grapes  whilst  he  eats  them.  When 
some  of  his  angels  affirmed  a  truth,  the  laurel  twig 
which  they  held  blossomed  in  their  hands.  The 
noise  which,  at  a  distance,  appeared  like  gnashing 
and  thumping,  on  coming  nearer  was  found  to  be  the 
voice  of  disputants.  The  men,  in  one  of  his  visions, 
seen  in  heavenly  light,  appeared  like  dragons,  and 
seemed  in  darkness :  but,  to  each  other,  they  ap 
peared  as  men,  and,  when  the  light  from  heaven 
shone  into  their  cabin,  they  complained  of  the  dark 
ness,  and  were  compelled  to  shut  the  window  that 
they  might  see. 

There  was  this  perception  in  him,  which  makes  the 
poet  or  seer,  an  object  of  awe  and  terror,  namely, 
that  the  same  man,  or  society  of  men,  may  wear  one 
aspect  to  themselves  and  their  companions,  and  a  dif 
ferent  aspect  to  higher  intelligences.  Certain  priests, 
whom  he  describes  as  conversing  very  learnedly  to 
gether,  appeared  to  the  children,  who  were  at  some 
distance,  like  dead  horses  :  and  many  the  like  misap- 
pearances.  And  instantly  the  mind  inquires,  whether 
these  fishes  under  the  bridge,  yonder  oxen  in  the 
pasture,  those  dogs  in  the  yard,  are  immutably  fishes, 
oxen,  and  dogs,  or  only  so  appear  to  me,  and 
perchance  to  themselves  appear  upright  men;  and 
whether  I  appear  as  a  man  to  all  eyes.  The  Brahmins 
and  Pythagoras  propounded  the  same  question,  and 
if  any  poet  has  witnessed  the  transformation,  he 
doubtless  found  it  in  harmony  with  various  experi- 


28  THE  POET. 

ences.  We  have  all  seen  changes  as  considerable  in 
wheat  and  caterpillars.  He  is  the  poet,  and  shall 
draw  us  with  love  and  terror,  who  sees,  through  the 
flowing  vest,  the  firm  nature,  and  can  declare  it. 

I  look  in  vain  for  the  poet  whom  I  describe.  We 
do  not,  with  sufficient  plainness,  or  sufficient  pro 
foundness,  address  ourselves  to  life,  nor  dare  we 
chant  our  own  times  and  social  circumstance.  If  we 
filled  the  day  with  bravery,  we  should  not  shrink  from 
celebrating  it.  Time  and  nature  yield  us  many  gifts, 
but  not  yet  the  timely  man,  the  new  religion,  the  rec 
onciler,  whom  all  things  await.  Dante's  praise  is, 
that  he  dared  to  write  his  autobiography  in  colossal 
cipher,  or  into  ^universality.  We  have  yet  had  no 
genius  in  America,  with  tyrannous  eye,  which  knew 
the  value  of  our  incomparable  materials,  and  saw,  in 
the  barbarism  and  materialism  of  the  times,  another 
carnival  of  the  same  gods  whose  picture  he  so  much 
admires  in  Homer ;  then  in  the  middle  age ;  then  in 
Calvinism.  Banks  and  tariffs,  the  newspaper  and 
caucus,  methodism  and  unitarianism,  are  flat  and  dull 
to  dull  people,  but  rest  on  the  same  foundations  of 
wonder  as  the  town  of  Troy,  and  the  temple  of  Del- 
phos,  and  are  as  swiftly  passing  away.  Our  logroll 
ing,  our  stumps  and  their  politics,  our  fisheries,  our 
Negroes,  and  Indians,  our  boats,  and  our  repudia 
tions,  the  wrath  of  rogues,  and  the  pusillanimity  of 
honest  men,  the  northern  trade,  the  southern  plant 
ing,  the  western  clearing,  Oregon,  and  Texas,  are  yet 
unsung.  Yet  America  is  a  poem  in  our  eyes ;  its 
ample  geography  dazzles  the  imagination,  and  it  will 
not  wait  long  for  metres.  If  I  have  not  found  that 


THE    POET.  29 

excellent  combination  of  gifts  in  my  countrymen 
which  I  seek,  neither  could  I  aid  myself  to  fix  the  idea 
of  the  poet  by  reading  now  and  then  in  Chalmers's 
collection  of  five  centuries  of  English  poets.  These 
are  wits,  more  than  poets,  though  there  have  been 
poets  among  them.  But  when  we  adhere  to  the  ideal 
of  the  poet,  we  have  our  difficulties  even  with  Milton 
and  Homer.  Milton  is  too  literary,  and  Homer  too 
literal  and  historical. 

But  I  am  not  wise  enough  for  a  national  criticism, 
and  must  use  the  old  largeness  a  little  longer,  to  dis 
charge  my  errand  from  the  muse  to  the  poet  concern 
ing  his  art. 

Art  is  the  path  of  the  creator  to  his  work.  The 
paths,  or  methods,  are  ideal  and  eternal,  though  few 
men  ever  see  them,  not  the  artist  himself  for  years, 
or  for  a  lifetime,  unless  he  come  into  the  conditions. 
The  painter,  the  sculptor,  the  composer,  the  epic 
rhapsodist,  the  orator,  all  partake  one  desire,  namely, 
to  express  themselves  symmetrically  and  abundantly, 
not  dwarfishly  and  fragmentarily.  They  found  or  put 
themselves  in  certain  conditions,  as,  the  painter  and 
sculptor  before  some  impressive  human  figures ;  the 
orator,  into  the  assembly  of  the  people;  and  the 
others,  in  such  scenes  as  each  has  found  exciting  to 
his  intellect ;  and  each  presently  feels  the  new  desire. 
He  hears  a  voice,  he  sees  a  beckoning.  Then  he  is 
apprised,  with  wonder,  what  herds  of  daemons  hem 
him  in.  He  can  no  more  rest;  he  says,  with  the  old 
painter,  "  By  God,  it  is  in  me,  and  must  go  forth  of 
me."  He  pursues  a  beauty,  half  seen,  which  flies 
before  him.  The  poet  pours  out  verses  in  every  soli- 


30  THE  POET. 

tude.  Most  of  the  things  he  says  are  conventional, 
no  doubt ;  but  by  and  by  he  says  something  which  is 
original  and  beautiful.  That  charms  him.  He  would 
say  nothing  else  but  such  things.  In  our  way  of 
talking,  we  say,  *  That  is  yours,  this  is  mine ; '  but 
the  poet  knows  well  that  it  is  not  his ;  that  it  is  as 
strange  and  beautiful  to  him  as  to  you ;  he  would  fain 
hear  the  like  eloquence  at  length.  Once  having 
tasted  this  immortal  ichor,  he  cannot  have  enough  of 
it,  and,  as  an  admirable  creative  power  exists  in  these 
intellections,  it  is  of  the  last  importance  that  these 
things  get  spoken.  What  a  little  of  all  we  know  is 
said !  What  drops  of  all  the  sea  of  our  science  are 
baled  up  !  and  by  what  accident  it  is  that  these  are 
exposed,  when  so  many  secrets  sleep  in  nature! 
Hence  the  necessity  of  speech  and  song ;  hence  these 
throbs  and  heart-beatings  in  the  orator,  at  the  door 
of  the  assembly,  to  the  end,  namely,  that  thought 
may  be  ejaculated  as  Logos,  or  Word. 

Doubt  not,  O  poet,  but  persist.  Say,  *  It  is  in 
me,  and  shall  out.'  Stand  there,  balked  and  dumb, 
stuttering  and  stammering,  hissed  and  hooted,  stand 
and  strive,  until,  at  last,  rage  draw  out  of  thee  that 
dream-power  which  every  night  shows  thee  is  thine 
own;  a  power  transcending  all  limit  and  privacy, 
and  by  virtue  of  which  a  man  is  the  conductor  of  the 
whole  river  of  electricity.  Nothing  walks,  or  creeps, 
or  grows,  or  exists,  which  must  not  in  turn  arise  and 
walk  before  him  as  exponent  of  his  meaning.  Comes 
he  to  that  power,  his  genius  is  no  longer  exhaust 
ible.  All  the  creatures,  by  pairs  and  by  tribes,  pour 
into  his  mind  as  into  a  Noah's  ark,  to  come  forth 


THE  POET.  31 

again  to  people  a  new  world.  This  is  like  the  stock 
of  air  for  our  respiration,  or  for  the  combustion  of 
our  fireplace,  not  a  measure  of  gallons,  but  the  entire 
atmosphere  if  wanted.  And  therefore  the  rich  poets, 
as  Homer,  Chaucer,  Shakspeare,  and  Raphael,  have 
obviously  no  limits  to  their  works,  except  the  limits  of 
their  lifetime,  and  resemble  a  mirror  carried  through 
the  street,  ready  to  render  an  image  of  every  created 
thing. 

O  poet !  a  new  nobility  is  conferred  in  groves  and 
pastures,  and  not  in  castles,  or  by  the  sword-blade, 
any  longer.  The  conditions  are  hard,  but  equal. 
Thou  shalt  leave  the  world,  and  know  the  muse  only. 
Thou  shalt  not  know  any  longer  the  times,  customs, 
graces,  politics,  or  opinions  of  men,  but  shalt  take 
all  from  the  muse.  For  the  time  of  towns  is  tolled 
from  the  world  by  funereal  chimes,  but  in  nature  the 
universal  hours  are  counted  by  succeeding  tribes  of 
animals  and  plants,  and  by  growth  of  joy  on  joy. 
God  wills  also  that  thou  abdicate  a  manifold  and 
duplex  life,  and  that  thou  be  content  that  others 
speak  for  thee.  Others  shall  be  thy  gentlemen,  and 
shall  represent  all  courtesy  and  worldly  life  for  thee ; 
others  shall  do  the  great  and  resounding  actions  also. 
Thou  shalt  lie  close  hid  with  nature,  and  canst  not 
be  afforded  to  the  Capitol  or  the  Exchange.  The 
world  is  full  of  renunciations  and  apprenticeships, 
and  this  is  thine:  thou  must  pass  for  a  fool  and  a 
churl  for  a  long  season.  This  is  the  screen  and 
sheath  in  which  Pan  has  protected  his  well-beloved 
flower,  and  thou  shalt  be  known  only  to  thine  own, 
and  they  shall  console  thee  with  tenderest  love. 


32  THE  POET. 

And  thou  shalt  not  be  able  to  rehearse  the  names  of 
thy  friends  in  thy  verse,  for  an  old  shame  before  the 
holy  ideal.  And  this  is  the  reward :  that  the  ideal 
shall  be  real  to  thee,  and  the  impressions  of  the 
actual  world  shall  fall  like  summer  rain,  copious,  but 
not  troublesome,  to  thy  invulnerable  essence.  Thou 
shalt  have  the  whole  land  for  thy  park  and  manor, 
the  sea  for  thy  bath  and  navigation,  without  tax  and 
without  envy ;  the  woods  and  the  rivers  thou  shalt 
own  ;  and  thou  shalt  possess  that  wherein  others  are 
only  tenants  and  boarders.  Thou  true  land-lord! 
sea-lord  !  air-lord !  Wherever  snow  falls,  or  water 
flows,  or  birds  fly,  wherever  day  and  night  meet  in 
twilight,  wherever  the  blue  heaven  is  hung  by  clouds, 
or  sown  with  stars,  wherever  are  forms  with  trans 
parent  boundaries,  wherever  are  outlets  into  celestial 
space,  wherever  is  danger,  and  awe,  and  love,  there  is 
Beauty,  plenteous  as  rain,  shed  for  thee,  and  though 
thou  shouldest  walk  the  world  over,  thou  shalt  not 
be  able  to  find  a  condition  inopportune  or  ignoble. 


ESSAY    II. 

EXPERIENCE. 

THE  lords  of  life,  the  lords  of  life,— 
I  saw  them  pass, 
In  their  own  guise, 
Like  and  unlike, 
Portly  and  grim, 
Use  and  Surprise, 
Surface  and  Dream, 
Succession  swift,  and  spectral  Wrong, 
Temperament  without  a  tongue, 
And  the  inventor  of  the  game 
Omnipresent  without  name ;  — 
Some  to  see,  some  to  be  guessed, 
They  marched  from  east  to  west: 
Little  man,  least  of  all, 
Among  the  legs  of  his  guardians  tall, 
Walked  about  with  puzzled  look  :  — 
Him  by  the  hand  dear  nature  took ; 
Dearest  nature,  strong  and  kind, 
Whispered,  '  Darling,  never  mind ! 
To-morrow  they  will  wear  another  face, 
The  founder  thou !  these  are  thy  race ! ' 

WHERE  do  we  find  ourselves?  In  a  series  of  which 
we  do  not  know  the  extremes,  and  believe  that  it 
has  none.  We  wake  and  find  ourselves  on  a  stair; 
there  are  stairs  below  us,  which  we  seem  to  have  as 
cended  ;  there  are  stairs  above  us,  many  a  one,  which 

33 


34  EXPERIENCE. 

go  upward  and  out  of  sight.  But  the  Genius  which, 
according  to  the  old  belief,  stands  at  the  door  by 
which  we  enter,  and  gives  us  the  lethe  to  drink,  that 
we  may  tell  no  tales,  mixed  the  cup  too  strongly,  and 
we  cannot  shake  off  the  lethargy  now  at  noonday. 
Sleep  lingers  all  our  lifetime  about  our  eyes,  as  night 
hovers  all  day  in  the  boughs  of  the  fir-tree.  All 
things  swim  and  glitter.  Our  life  is  not  so  much 
threatened  as  our  perception.  Ghostlike  we  glide 
through  nature  and  should,  not  know  our  place  again. 
Did  our  birth  fall  in  some  fit  of  indigence  and  frugal 
ity  in  nature,  that  she  was  so  sparing  of  her  fire  and 
so  liberal  of  her  earth,  that  it  appears  to  us  that  we 
lack  the  affirmative  principle,  and  though  we  have 
health  and  reason,  yet  we  have  no  superfluity  of  spirit 
for  new  creation?  We  have  enough  to  live  and  bring 
the  year  about,  but  not  an  ounce  to  impart  or  to 
invest.  Ah  that  our  Genius  were  a  little  more  of  a 
genius  !  We  are  like  millers  on  the  lower  levels  of  a 
stream,  when  the  factories  above  them  have  exhausted 
the  water.  We  too  fancy  that  the  upper  people  must 
have  raised  their  dams. 

If  any  of  us  knew  what  we  were  doing  or  where 
we  are  going,  then  when  we  think  we  best  know! 
We  do  not  know  to-day  whether  we  are  busy  or  idle. 
In  times  when  we  thought  ourselves  indolent  we  have 
afterwards  discovered,  that  much  was  accomplished, 
and  much  was  begun  in  us.  All  our  days  are  so  un 
profitable  while  they  pass,  that  'tis  wonderful  where 
or  when  we  ever  got  any  thing  of  this  which  we  call 
wisdom,  poetry,  virtue.  We  never  got  it  on  any 
dated  calendar  day.  Some  heavenly  days  must  have 


EXPERIENCE.  35 

been  intercalated  somewhere,  like  those  that  Hermes 
won  with  dice  of  the  Moon,  that  Osiris  might  be 
born.  It  is  said,  all  martyrdoms  looked  mean  when 
they  were  suffered.  Every  ship  is  a  romantic  object, 
except  that  we  sail  in.  Embark,  and  the  romance 
quits  our  vessel,  and  hangs  on  every  other  sail  on  the 
horizon.  Our  life  looks  trivial,  and  we  shun  to  record 
it.  Men  seem  to  have  learned  of  the  horizon  the  art 
of  perpetual  retreating  and  reference.  '  Yonder  up 
lands  are  rich  pasturage,  and  my  neighbor  has  fertile 
meadow,  but  my  field,1  says  the  querulous  farmer, 
*  only  holds  the  world  together.'  I  quote  another 
man's  saying ;  unluckily,  that  other  withdraws  him 
self  in  the  same  way,  and  quotes  me.  'Tis  the  trick 
of  nature  thus  to  degrade  to-day;  a  good  deal  of 
buzz,  and  somewhere  a  result  slipped  magically  in. 
Every  roof  is  agreeable  to  the  eye,  until  it  is  lifted ; 
then  we  find  tragedy  and  moaning  women,  and  hard- 
eyed  husbands,  and  deluges  of  lethe,  and  the  men 
ask  *  What's  the  news  ? '  as  if  the  old  were  so  bad. 
How  many  individuals  can  we  count  in  society?  how 
many  actions?  how  many  opinions?  So  much  of  our 
time  is  preparation,  so  much  is  routine,  and  so  much 
retrospect,  that  the  pith  of  each  man's  genius  con 
tracts  itself  to  a  very  few  hours.  The  history  of 
literature —  take  the  net  result  of  Tiraboschi,  Warton, 
or  Schlegel,  —  is  a  sum  of  very  few  ideas,  and  of  very 
few  original  tales,  —  all  the  rest  being  variation  of 
these.  So  in  this  great  society  wide  lying  around  us, 
a  critical  analysis  would  find  very  few  spontaneous 
actions.  It  is  almost  all  custom  and  gross  sense. 
There  are  even  few  opinions,  and  these  seem  organic 


36  EXPERIENCE. 

in  the  speakers,  and  do  not  disturb  the  universal 
necessity. 

What  opium  is  instilled  into  all  disaster !  It  shows 
formidable  as  we  approach  it,  but  there  is  at  last  no 
rough  rasping  friction,  but  the  most  slippery  sliding 
surfaces.  We  fall  soft  on  a  thought.  Ate  Dea  is 
gentle, 

Over  men's  heads  walking  aloft, 
With  tender  feet  treading  so  soft. 

People  grieve  and  bemoan  themselves,  but  it  is  not 
half  so  bad  with  them  as  they  say.  There  are  moods 
in  which  we  court  suffering,  in  the  hope  that  here,  at 
least,  we  shall  find  reality,  sharp  peaks  and  edges  of 
truth.  But  it  turns  out  to  be  scene-painting  and 
counterfeit.  The  only  thing  grief  has  taught  me,  is 
to  know  how  shallow  it  is.  That,  like  all  the  rest, 
plays  about  the  surface,  and  never  introduces  me  into 
the  reality,  for  contact  with  which,  we  would  even  pay 
the  costly  price  of  sons  and  lovers.  Was  it  Bosco- 
vich  who  found  out  that  bodies  never  come  in  con 
tact  ?  Well,  souls  never  touch  their  objects.  An 
innavigable  sea  washes  with  silent  waves  between  us 
and  the  things  we  aim  at  and  converse  with.  Grief 
too  will  make  us  idealists.  In  the  death  of  my  son, 
now  more  than  two  years  ago,  I  seem  to  have  lost  a 
beautiful  estate,  — no  more.  I  cannot  get  it  nearer  to 
me.  If  to-morrow  I  should  be  informed  of  the 
bankruptcy  of  my  principal  debtors,  the  loss -of  my 
property  would  be  a  great  inconvenience  to  me,  per 
haps,  for  many  years ;  but  it  would  leave  me  as  it 
found  me,  —  neither  better  nor  worse.  So  it  is  with 


EXPERIENCE.  37 

this  calamity:  it  does  not  touch  me:  some  thing 
which  I  fancied  was  a  part  of  me,  which  could  not  be 
torn  away  without  tearing  me,  nor  enlarged  without 
enriching  me,  falls  off  from  me,  and  leaves  no  scar. 
It  was  caducous.  I  grieve  that  grief  can  teach  mo 
nothing,  nor  carry  me  one  step  into  real  nature.  The 
Indian  who  was  laid  under  a  curse,  that  the  wind 
should  not  blow  on  him,  nor  water  flow  to  him,  nor 
fire  burn  him,  is  a  type  of  us  all.  The  dearest  events 
are  summer-rain,  and  we  the  Para  coats  that  shed 
every  drop.  Nothing  is  left  us  now  but  death.  We 
look  to  that  with  a  grim  satisfaction,  saying,  there  at 
least  is  reality  that  will  not  dodge  us. 

I  take  this  evanescence  and  lubricity  of  all  objects, 
which  lets  them  slip  through  our  fingers  then  when 
we  clutch  hardest,  to  be  the  most  unhandsome  part 
of  our  condition.  Nature  does  not  like  to  be  ob 
served,  and  likes  that  we  should  be  her  fools  and 
playmates.  We  may  have  the  sphere  for  our  cricket- 
ball,  but  not  a  berry  for  our  philosophy.  Direct 
strokes  she  never  gave  us  power  to  make ;  all  our 
blows  glance,  all  our  hits  are  accidents.  Our  rela 
tions  to  each  other  are  oblique  and  casual. 

Dream  delivers  us  to  dream,  and  there  is  no  end 
to  illusion.  Life  is  a  train  of  moods  like  a  string  of 
beads,  and,  as  we  pass  through  them,  they  prove  to 
be  many-colored  lenses  which  paint  the  world  their 
own  hue,  and  each  shows  only  what  lies  in  its  focus. 
From  the  mountain  you  see  the  mountain.  We  ani 
mate  what  we  can,  and  we  see  only  what  we  animate. 
Nature  and  books  belong  to  the  eyes  that  see  them. 
It  depends  on  the  mood  of  the  man,  whether  he  shall 


38  EXPERIENCE. 

see  the  sunset  or  the  fine  poem.  There  are  always  sun 
sets,  and  there  is  always  genius  ;  but  only  a  few  hours 
so  serene  that  we  can  relish  nature  or  criticism.  The 
more  or  less  depends  on  structure  or  temperament. 
Temperament  is  the  iron  wire  on  which  the  beads 
are  strung.  Of  what  use  is  fortune  or  talent  to  a 
cold  and  defective  nature?  Who  cares  what  sensi 
bility  or  discrimination  a  man  has  at  some  time 
shown,  if  he  falls  asleep  in  his  chair?  or  if  he  laugh 
and  giggle?  or  if  he  apologize?  or  is  affected  with 
egotism?  or  thinks  of  his  dollar?  or  cannot  go  by 
food  ?  or  has  gotten  a  child  in  his  boyhood  ?  Of  what 
use  is  genius,  if  the  organ  is  too  convex  or  too 
concave,  and  cannot  find  a  focal  distance  within  the 
actual  horizon  of  human  life?  Of  what  use,  if  the 
brain  is  too  cold  or  too  hot,  and  the  man  does  not 
care  enough  for  results,  to  stimulate  him  to  experi 
ment,  and  hold  him  up  in  it?  or  if  the  web  is  too 
finely  woven,  too  irritable  by  pleasure  and  pain,  so 
that  life  stagnates  from  too  much  reception,  without 
due  outlet?  Of  what  use  to  make  heroic  vows  of 
amendment,  if  the  same  old  law-breaker  is  to  keep 
them  ?  What  cheer  can  the  religious  sentiment 
yield,  when  that  is  suspected  to  be  secretly  depend 
ent  on  the  seasons  of  the  year,  and  the  state  of  the 
blood?  I  knew  a  witty  physician  who  found  the 
ology  in  the  biliary  duct,  and  used  to  affirm  that  if 
there  was  disease  in  the  liver,  the  man  became  a 
Calvinist,  and  if  that  organ  was  sound,  he  became 
a  Unitarian.  Very  mortifying  is  the  reluctant  ex 
perience  that  some  unfriendly  excess  or  imbecility 
neutralizes  the  promise  of  genius.  We  see  young 


EXPERIENCE.  39 

men  who  owe  us  a  new  world,  so  readily  and  lavishly 
they  promise,  but  they  never  acquit  the  debt ;  they 
die  young  and  dodge  the  account :  or  if  they  live, 
they  lose  themselves  in  the  crowd. 

Temperament  also  enters  fully  into  the  system  of 
illusions,  and  shuts  us  in  a  prison  of  glass  which  we 
cannot  see.  There  is  an  optical  illusion  about  every 
person  we  meet.  In  truth,  they  are  all  creatures  of 
given  temperament,  which  will  appear  in  a  given 
character,  whose  boundaries  they  will  never  pass : 
but  we  look  at  them,  they  seem  alive,  and  we  pre 
sume  there  is  impulse  in  them.  In  the  moment  it 
seems  impulse ;  in  the  year,  in  the  lifetime,  it  turns 
out  to  be  a  certain  uniform  tune  which  the  revolving 
barrel  of  the  music-box  must  play.  Men  resist  the 
conclusion  in  the  morning,  but  adopt  it  as  the  even 
ing  wears  on,  that  temper  prevails  over  every  thing 
of  time,  place  and  condition,  and  is  inconsumable  in 
the  flames  of  religion.  Some  modifications  the  moral 
sentiment  avails  to  impose,  but  the  individual  texture 
holds  its  dominion,  if  not  to  bias  the  moral  judg 
ments,  yet  to  fix  the  measure  of  activity  and  of  enjoy 
ment. 

I  thus  express  the  law  as  it  is  read  from  the  plat 
form  of  ordinary  life,  but  must  not  leave  it  without 
noticing  the  capital  exception.  For  temperament  is 
a  power  which  no  man  willingly  hears  any  one  praise 
but  himself.  On  the  platform  of  physics,  we  cannot 
resist  the  contracting  influences  of  so-called  science. 
Temperament  puts  all  divinity  to  rout.  I  know  the 
mental  proclivity  of  physicians'.  I  hear  the  chuckle  of 
the  phrenologists.  Theoretic  kidnappers  and  slave- 


40  EXPERIENCE. 

drivers,  they  esteem  each  man  the  victim  of  another, 
who  winds  him  round  his  finger  by  knowing  the  law 
of  his  being,  and  by  such  cheap  signboards  as  the 
color  of  his  beard,  or  the  slope  of  his  occiput,  reads 
the  inventory  of  his  fortunes  and  character.  The 
grossest  ignorance  does  not  disgust  like  this  impu 
dent  knowingness.  The  physicians  say,  they  are  not 
materialists  ;  but  they  are  :  —  Spirit  is  matter  reduced 
to  an  extreme  thinness  :  O  so  thin  !  —  But  the  defini 
tion  of  spiritual  should  be,  that  which  is  its  own  evi 
dence.  What  notions  do  they  attach  to  love!  what 
to  religion  !  One  would  not  willingly  pronounce  these 
words  in  their  hearing,  and  give  them  the  occasion 
to  profane  them.  I  saw  a  gracious  gentleman  who 
adapts  his  conversation  to  the  form  of  the  head  of 
the  man  he  talks  with  !  I  had  fancied  that  the  value 
of  life  lay  in  its  inscrutable  possibilities ;  in  the  fact 
that  I  never  know,  in  addressing  myself  to  a  new 
individual,  what  may  befall  me.  I  carry  the  keys  of 
my  castle  in  my  hand,  ready  to  throw  them  at  the 
feet  of  my  lord,  whenever  and  in  what  disguise  so 
ever  he  shall  appear.  I  know  he  is  in  the  neigh 
borhood  hidden  among  vagabonds.  Shall  I  preclude 
my  future,  by  taking  a  high  seat  and  kindly  adapting 
my  conversation  to  the  shape  of  heads?  When  I 

come  to  that,  the  doctors  shall  buy  me  for  a  cent. 

'  But,  sir,  medical  history ;  the  report  to  the  insti 
tute  ;  the  proven  facts  ! '  —  I  distrust  the  facts  and  the 
inferences.  Temperament  is  the  veto  or  limitation- 
power  in  the  constitution,  very  justly  applied  to 
restrain  an  opposite  excess  in  the  constitution,  but 
absurdly  offered  as  a  bar  to  original  equity.  When 


EXPERIENCE.  41 

virtue  is  in  presence,  all  subordinate  powers  sleep. 
On  its  own  level,  or  in  view  of  nature,  temperament 
is  final.  I  see  not,  if  one  be  once  caught  in  this  trap 
of  so-called  sciences,  any  escape  for  the  man  from 
the  links  of  the  chain  of  physical  necessity.  Given 
such  an  embryo,  such  a  history  must  follow.  On  this 
platform,  one  lives  in  a  sty  of  sensualism,  and  would 
soon  come  to  suicide.  But  it  is  impossible  that  the 
creative  power  should  exclude  itself.  Into  every 
intelligence  there  is  a  door  which  is  never  closed, 
through  which  the  creator  passes.  The  intellect, 
seeker  of  absolute  truth,  or  the  heart,  lover  of  abso 
lute  good,  intervenes  for  our  succor,  and  at  one  whis 
per  of  these  high  powers,  we  awake  from  ineffectual 
struggles  with  this  nightmare.  We  hurl  it  into  its 
own  hell,  and  cannot  again  contract  ourselves  to  so 
base  a  state. 

The  secret  of  the  illusoriness  is  in  the  necessity 
of  a  succession  of  moods  or  objects.  Gladly  we 
would  anchor,  but  the  anchorage  is  quicksand.  This 
onward  trick  of  nature  is  too  strong  for  us :  Pero  si 
imiove.  When,  at  night,  I  look  at  the  moon  and 
stars,  I  seem  stationary,  and  they  to  hurry.  Our 
love  of  the  real  draws  us  to  permanence,  but  health 
of  body  consists  in  circulation,  and  sanity  of  mind 
in  variety  or  facility  of  association.  We  need  change 
of  objects.  Dedication  to  one  thought  is  quickly 
odious.  We  house  with  the  insane,  and  must  humor 
them  ;  then  conversation  dies  out.  Once  I  took  such 
delight  in  Montaigne,  that  I  thought  I  should  not 
need  any  other  book ;  before  that,  in  Shakspeare ; 


42  EXPERIENCE. 

then  in  Plutarch ;  then  in  Plotinus ;  at  one  time  in 
Bacon ;  afterwards  in  Goethe  ;  even  in  Bettine  ;  but 
now  I  turn  the  pages  of  either  of  them  languidly, 
whilst  I  still  cherish  their  genius.  So  with  pic 
tures  ;  each  will  bear  an  emphasis  of  attention  once, 
which  it  cannot  retain,  though  we  fain  would  con 
tinue  to  be  pleased  in  that  manner.  How  strongly 
I  have  felt  of  pictures,  that  when  you  have  seen  one 
well,  you  must  take  your  leave  of  it ;  you  shall  never 
see  it  again.  I  have  had  good  lessons  from  pictures, 
which  I  have  since  seen  without  emotion  or  remark. 
A  deduction  must  be  made  from  the  opinion,  which 
even  the  wise  express  of  a  new  book  or  occurrence. 
Their  opinion  gives  me  tidings  of  their  mood,  and 
some  vague  guess  at  the  new  fact,  but  is  nowise  to 
be  trusted  as  the  lasting  relation  between  that  intel 
lect  and  that  thing.  The  child  asks  "  Mama,  why 
don't  I  like  the  story  as  well  as  when  you  told  it  me 
yesterday?"  Alas,  child,  it  is  even  so  with  the  old 
est  cherubim  of  knowledge.  But  will  it  answer  thy 
question  to  say,  Because  thou  wert  born  to  a  whole, 
and  this  story  is  a  particular?  The  reason  of  the 
pain  this  discovery  causes  us  (and  we  make  it  late  in 
respect  to  works  of  art  and  intellect),  is  the  plaint  of 
tragedy  which  murmurs  from  it  in  regard  to  persons, 
to  friendship  and  love. 

That  immobility  and  absence  of  elasticity  which 
we  find  in  the  arts,  we  find  with  more  pain  in  the 
artist.  There  is  no  power  of  expansion  in  men. 
Our  friends  early  appear  to  us  as  representatives  of 
certain  ideas,  which  they  never  pass  or  exceed. 
They  stand  on  the  brink  of  the  ocean  of  thought 


EXPERIENCE.  43 

and  power,  but  they  never  take  the  single  step  that 
would  bring  them  there.  A  man  is  like  a  bit  of 
Labrador  spar,  which  has  no  lustre  as  you  turn  it  in 
your  hand,  until  you  come  to  a  particular  angle ; 
then  it  shows  deep  and  beautiful  colors.  There  is 
no  adaptation  or  universal  applicability  in  men,  but 
each  has  his  special  talent,  and  the  mastery  of  suc 
cessful  men  consists  in  adroitly  keeping  themselves 
where  and  when  that  turn  shall  be  oftenest  to  be 
practised.  We  do  what  we  must,  and  call  it  by  the 
best  names  we  can,  and  would  fain  have  the  praise 
of  having  intended  the  result  which  ensues.  I  can 
not  recall  any  form  of  man  who  is  not  superfluous 
sometimes.  But  is  not  this  pitiful?  Life  is  not 
worth  the  taking,  to  do  tricks  in. 

Of  course,  it  needs  the  whole  society,  to  give  the 
symmetry  we  seek.  The  parti-colored  wheel  must 
revolve  very  fast  to  appear  white.  Something  is 
learned  too  by  conversing  with  so  much  folly  and 
defect.  In  fine,  whoever  loses,  we  are  always  of  the 
gaining  party.  Divinity  is  behind  our  failures  and 
follies  also.  The  plays  of  children  are  nonsense,  but 
very  educative  nonsense.  So  it  is  with  the  largest 
and  solemnest  things,  with  commerce,  government, 
church,  marriage,  and  so  with  the  history  of  every 
man's  bread,  and  the  ways  by  which  he  is  to  come 
by  it.  Like  a  bird  which  alights  nowhere,  but  hops 
perpetually  from  bough  to  bough,  is  the  Power  which 
abides  in  no  man  and  in  no  woman,  but  for  a  mo 
ment  speaks  from  this  one,  and  for  another  moment 
from  that  one. 


44  EXPERIENCE. 

But  what  help  from  these  fineries  or  pedantries? 
What  help  from  thought?  Life  is  not  dialectics. 
We,  I  think,  in  these  times,  have  had  lessons  enough 
of  the  futility  of  criticism.  Our  young  people  have 
thought  and  written  much  on  labor  and  reform,  and 
for  all  that  they  have  written,  neither  the  world  nor 
themselves  have  got  on  a  step.  Intellectual  tasting 
of  life  will  not  supersede  muscular  activity.  If  a 
man  should  consider  the  nicety  of  the  passage  of  a 
piece  of  bread  down  his  throat,  he  would  starve. 
At  Education-Farm  the  noblest  theory  of  life  sat  on 
the  noblest  figures  of  young  men  and  maidens,  quite 
powerless  and  melancholy.  It  would  not  rake  or 
pitch  a  ton  of  hay ;  it  would  not  rub  down  a  horse ; 
and  the  men  and  maidens  it  left  pale  and  hungry. 
A  political  orator  wittily  compared  our  party  prom 
ises  to  western  roads,  which  opened  stately  enough, 
with  planted  trees  on  either  side,  to  tempt  the  trav 
eller,  but  soon  became  narrow  and  narrower,  and 
ended  in  a  squirrel-track,  and  ran  up  a  tree.  So 
does  culture  with  us ;  it  ends  in  head-ache.  Un 
speakably  sad  and  barren  does  life  look  to  those,  who 
a  few  months  ago  were  dazzled  with  the  splendor  of 
the  promise  of  the  times.  "  There  is  now  no  longer 
any  right  course  of  action,  nor  any  self-devotion  left 
among  the  Iranis."  Objections  and  criticism  we  have 
had  our  fill  of.  There  are  objections  to  every  course 
of  life  and  action,  and  the  practical  wisdom  infers 
an  indifferency,  from  the  omnipresence  of  objection. 
The  whole  frame  of  things  preaches  indifferency. 
Do  not  craze  yourself  with  thinking,  but  go  about 
your  business  anywhere.  Life  is  not  intellectual  or 


EXPERIENCE.  45 

critical,  but  sturdy.  Its  chief  good  is  for  well-mixed 
people  who  can  enjoy  what  they  find,  without  ques 
tion.  Nature  hates  peeping,  and  our  mothers  speak 
her  very  sense  when  they  say,  "  Children,  eat  your 
victuals,  and  say  no  more  of  it."  To  fill  the  hour,  — 
that  is  happiness ;  to  fill  the  hour,  and  leave  no 
crevice  for  a  repentance  or  an  approval.  We  live 
amid  surfaces,  and  the  true  art  of  life  is  to  skate  well 
on  them.  Under  the  oldest  mouldiest  conventions, 
a  man  of  native  force  prospers  just  as  well  as  in  the 
newest  world,  and  that  by  skill  of  handling  and  treat 
ment.  He  can  take  hold  anywhere.  Life  itself  is  a 
mixture  of  power  and  form,  and  will  not  bear  the 
least  excess  of  either.  To  finish  the  moment,  to  find 
the  journey's  end  in  every  step  of  the  road,  to  live 
the  greatest  number  of  good  hours,  is  wisdom.  It  is 
not  the  part  of  men,  but  of  fanatics,  or  of  mathe 
maticians,  if  you  will,  to  say,  that,  the  shortness  of 
life  considered,  it  is  not  worth  caring  whether  for  so 
short  a  duration  we  were  sprawling  in  want,  or  sit 
ting  high.  Since  our  office  is  with  moments,  let  us 
husband  them.  Five  minutes  of  to-day  are  worth 
as  much  to  me,  as  five  minutes  in  the  next  millen 
nium.  Let  us  be  poised,  and  wise,  and  our  own,  to 
day.  Let  us  treat  the  men  and  women  well :  treat 
them  as  if  they  were  real :  perhaps  they  are.  Men 
live  in  their  fancy,  like  drunkards  whose  hands  are 
too  soft  and  tremulous  for  successful  labor.  It  is  a 
tempest  of  fancies,  and  the  only  ballast  I  know,  is 
a  respect  to  the  present  hour.  Without  any  shadow 
of  doubt,  amidst  this  vertigo  of  shows  and  politics, 
I  settle  myself  ever  the  firmer  in  the  creed,  that  we 


46  EXPERIENCE. 

should  not  postpone  and  refer  and  wish,  but  do  broad 
justice  where  we  are,  by  whomsoever  we  deal  with, 
accepting  our  actual  companions  and  circumstances, 
however  humble  or  odious,  as  the  mystic  officials  to 
whom  the  universe  has  delegated  its  whole  pleasure 
for  us.  If  these  are  mean  and  malignant,  their 
contentment,  which  is  the  last  victory  of  justice,  is  a 
more  satisfying  echo  to  the  heart,  than  the  voice  of 
poets  and  the  casual  sympathy  of  admirable  persons. 
I  think  that  however  a  thoughtful  man  may  suffer 
from  the  defects  and  absurdities  of  his  company,  he 
cannot  without  affectation  deny  to  any  set  of  men 
and  women,  a  sensibility  to  extraordinary  merit.  The 
coarse  and  frivolous  have  an  instinct  of  superiority, 
if  they  have  not  a  sympathy,  and  honor  it  in  their 
blind  capricious  way  with  sincere  homage. 

The  fine  young  people  despise  life,  but  in  me,  and 
in  such  as  with  me  are  free  from  dyspepsia,  and  to 
whom  a  day  is  a  sound  and  solid  good,  it  is  a  great 
excess  of  politeness  to  look  scornful  and  to  cry  for 
company.  I  am  grown  by  sympathy  a  little  eager 
and  sentimental,  but  leave  me  alone,  and  I  should 
relish  every  hour  and  what  it  brought  me,  the  pot- 
luck  of  the  day,  as  heartily  as  the  oldest  gossip  in 
the  bar-room.  I  am  thankful  for  small  mercies.  I 
compared  notes  with  one  of  my  friends  who  expects 
every  thing  of  the  universe,  and  is  disappointed  when 
any  thing  is  less  than  the  best,  and  I  found  that  I 
begin  at  the  other  extreme,  expecting  nothing,  and 
am  always  full  of  thanks  for  moderate  goods.  I 
accept  the  clangor  and  jangle  of  contrary  tendencies. 
I  find  my  account  in  sots  and  bores  also.  They  give 


EXPERIENCE.  47 

a  reality  to  the  circumjacent  picture,  which  such  a 
vanishing  meteorous  appearance  can  ill  spare.  In  the 
morning  I  awake,  and  find  the  old  world,  wife,  babes, 
and  mother,  Concord  and  Boston,  the  dear  old  spir 
itual  world,  and  even  the  dear  old  devil  not  far  off. 
If  we  will  take  the  good  we  find,  asking  no  questions, 
we  shall  have  heaping  measures.  The  great  gifts  are 
not  got  by  analysis.  Every  thing  good  is  on  the  high 
way.  The  middle  region  of  our  being  is  the  temper 
ate  zone.  We  may  climb  into  the  thin  and  cold 
realm  of  pure  geometry  and  lifeless  science,  or  sink 
into  that  of  sensation.  Between  these  extremes  is 
the  equator  of  life,  of  thought,  of  spirit,  of  poetry, 
—  a  narrow  belt.  Moreover,  in  popular  experience 
every  thing  good  is  on  the  highway.  A  collector 
peeps  into  all  the  picture-shops  of  Europe,  for  a  land 
scape  of  Poussin,  a  crayon-sketch  of  Salvator ;  but 
the  Transfiguration,  the  Last  Judgment,  the  Com 
munion  of  St.  Jerome,  and  what  are  as  transcendent 
as  these,  are  on  the  walls  of  the  Vatican,  the  Uffizii, 
or  the  Louvre,  where  every  footman  may  see  them ; 
to  say  nothing  of  nature's  pictures  in  every  street, 
of  sunsets  and  sunrises  every  day,  and  the  sculpture 
of  the  human  body  never  absent.  A  collector  re 
cently  bought  at  public  auction,  in  London,  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty-seven  guineas,  an  autograph  of 
Shakspeare :  but  for  nothing  a  schoolboy  can  read 
Hamlet,  and  can  detect  secrets  of  highest  concern 
ment  yet  unpublished  therein.  I  think  I  will  never 
read  any  but  the  commonest  books,  —  the  Bible, 
Homer,  Dante,  Shakspeare,  and  Milton.  Then  we 
are  impatient  of  so  public  a  life  and  planet,  and  run 


48  EXPERIENCE. 

hither  and  thither  for  nooks  and  secrets.  The  im 
agination  delights  in  the  woodcraft  of  Indians, 
trappers,  and  bee-hunters.  We  fancy  that  we  are 
strangers,  and  not  so  intimately  domesticated  in  the 
planet  as  the  wild  man,  and  the  wild  beast  and  bird. 
But  the  exclusion  reaches  them  also ;  reaches  the 
climbing,  flying,  gliding,  feathered  and  four-footed 
man.  Fox  and  woodchuck,  hawk  and  snipe,  and 
bittern,  when  nearly  seen,  have  no  more  root  in  the 
deep  world  than  man,  and  are  just  such  superficial 
tenants  of  the  globe.  Then  the  new  molecular 
philosophy  shows  astronomical  interspaces  betwixt 
atom  and  atom,  shows  that  the  world  is  all  outside : 
it  has  no  inside. 

The  mid-world  is  best.  Nature,  as  we  know  her, 
is  no  saint.  The  lights  of  the  church,  the  ascetics, 
Gentoos  and  Grahamites,  she  does  not  distinguish 
by  any  favor.  She  comes  eating  and  drinking  and 
sinning.  Her  darlings,  the  great,  the  strong,  the 
beautiful,  are  not  children  of  our  law,  do  not  come 
out  of  the  Sunday  School,  nor  weigh  their  food,  nor 
punctually  keep  the  commandments.  If  we  will  be 
strong  with  her  strength,  we  must  not  harbor  such 
disconsolate  consciences,  borrowed  too  from  the 
consciences  of  other  nations.  We  must  set  up  the 
strong  present  tense  against  all  the  rumors  of  wrath, 
past  or  to  come.  So  many  things  are  unsettled  which 
it  is  of  the  first  importance  to  settle,  —  and,  pending 
their  settlement,  we  will  do  as  we  do.  Whilst  the 
debate  goes  forward  on  the  equity  of  commerce,  and 
will  not  be  closed  for  a  century  or  two,  New  and  Old 
England  may  keep  shop.  Law  of  copyright  and  inter- 


EXPERIENCE.  49 

national  copyright  is  to  be  discussed,  and,  in  the 
interim,  we  will  sell  our  books  for  the  most  we  can. 
Expediency  of  literature,  reason  of  literature,  lawful-, 
ness  of  writing  down  a  thought,  is  questioned ;  much 
is  to  say  on  both  sides,  and,  while  the  fight  waxes 
hot,  thou,  dearest  scholar,  stick  to  thy  foolish  task, 
add  a  line  every  hour,  and  between  whiles  add  a  line, 
Right  to  hold  land,  right  of  property,  is  disputed, 
and  the  conventions  convene,  and  before  the  vote  is 
taken,  dig  away  in  your  garden,  and  spend  your  earn 
ings  as  a  waif  or  godsend  to  all  serene  and  beautiful 
purposes.  Life  itself  is  a  bubble  and  a  scepticism, 
and  a  sleep  within  a  sleep.  Grant  it,  and  as  much 
more  as  they  will, — but  thou,  God's  darling!  heed 
thy  private  dream  :  thou  wilt  not  be  missed  in  the 
scorning  and  scepticism  :  there  are  enough  of  them  : 
stay  there  in  thy  closet,  and  toil,  until  the  rest  are 
agreed  what  to  do  about  it.  Thy  sickness,  they  say, 
and  thy  puny  habit,  require  that  thou  do  this  or  avoid 
that,  but  know  that  thy  life  is  a  flitting  state,  a  tent 
for  a  night,  and  do  thou,  sick  or  well,  finish  that 
stint.  Thou  art  sick,  but  shalt  not  be  worse,  and  the 
universe,  which  holds  thee  dear,  shall  be  the  better. 

Human  life  is  made  up  of  the  two  elements,  power 
and  form,  and  the  proportion  must  be  invariably  kept, 
if  we  would  have  it  sweet  and  sound.  Each  of  these 
elements  in  excess  makes  a  mischief  as  hurtful  as  its 
defect.  Every  thing  runs  to  excess  :  every  good  qual 
ity  is  noxious,  if  unmixed,  and,  to  carry  the  danger 
to  the  edge  of  ruin,  nature  causes  each  man's  pecul 
iarity  to  superabound.  Here,  among  the  farms,  we 
adduce  the  scholars  as  examples  of  this  treachery. 


50  EXPERIENCE. 

They  are  nature's  victims  of  expression.  You  who 
see  the  artist,  the  orator,  the  poet,  too  near,  and  find 
their  life  no  more  excellent  than  that  of  mechanics  or 
farmers,  and  themselves  victims  of  partiality,  very 
hollow  and  haggard,  and  pronounce  them  failures,  — 
not  heroes,  but  quacks,  —  conclude  very  reasonably, 
that  these  arts  are  not  for  man,  but  are  disease.  Yet 
nature  will  not  bear  you  out.  Irresistible  nature  made 
men  such,  and  makes  legions  more  of  such,  every 
day.  You  love  the  boy  reading  in  a  book,  gazing  at 
a  drawing,  or  a  cast :  yet  what  are  these  millions  who 
read  and  behold,  but  incipient  writers  and  sculptors? 
Add  a  little  more  of  that  quality  which  now  reads 
and  sees,  and  they  will  seize  the  pen  and  chisel. 
And  if  one  remembers  how  innocently  he  began  to 
be  an  artist,  he  perceives  that  nature  joined  with  his 
enemy.  A  man  is  a  golden  impossibility.  The  line 
he  must  walk  is  a  hair's  breadth.  The  wise  through 
excess  of  wisdom  is  made  a  fool. 

How  easily,  if  fate  would  suffer  it,  we  might  keep 
forever  these  beautiful  limits,  and  adjust  ourselves, 
once  for  all,  to  the  perfect  calculation  of  the  king 
dom  of  known  cause  and  effect.  In  the  street  and 
in  the  newspapers,  life  appears  so  plain  a  business, 
that  manly  resolution  and  adherence  to  the  multi 
plication-table  through  all  weathers,  will  insure  suc 
cess.  But  ah !  presently  comes  a  day,  or  it  is  only 
a  half-hour,  with  its  angel-whispering,  —  which  dis 
comfits  the  conclusions  of  nations  and  of  years ! 
To-morrow  again,  every  thing  looks  real  and  angular, 
the  habitual  standards  are  reinstated,  common  sense 
is  as  rare  as  genius,  —  is  the  basis  of  genius,  and 


EXPERIENCE.  5 l 

experience  is  hands  and  feet  to  every  enterprise ;  — 
and  yet,  he  who  should  do  his  business  on  this  under 
standing,  would  be  quickly  bankrupt.  Power  keeps 
quite  another  road  than  the  turnpikes  of  choice  and 
will,  namely,  the  subterranean  and  invisible  tunnels 
and  channels  of  life.  It  is  ridiculous  that  we  are 
diplomatists,  and  doctors,  and  considerate  people : 
there  are  no  dupes  like  these.  Life  is  a  series  of 
surprises,  and  would  not  be  worth  taking  or  keeping, 
if  it  were  not.  God  delights  to  isolate  us  every  day, 
and  hide  from  us  the  past  and  the  future.  We  should 
look  about  us,  but  with  grand  politeness  he  draws 
down  before  us  an  impenetrable  screen  of  purest  sky, 
and  another  behind  us  of  purest  sky.  "You  will 
not  remember,"  he  seems  to  say,  *«  and  you  will  not 
expect."  All  good  conversation,  manners,  and  ac 
tion,  come  from  a  spontaneity  which  forgets  usages, 
and  makes  the  moment  great.  Nature  hates  calcu 
lators  ;  her  methods  are  saltatory  and  impulsive. 
Man  lives  by  pulses ;  our  organic  movements  are 
such  ;  and  the  chemical  and  ethereal  agents  are  undu- 
latory  and  alternate  ;  and  the  mind  goes  antagonizing 
on,  and  never  prospers  but  by  fits.  We  thrive  by 
casualties.  Our  chief  experiences  have  been  casual. 
The  most  attractive  class  of  people  are  those  who  are 
powerful  obliquely,  and  not  by  the  direct  stroke : 
men  of  genius,  but  not  yet  accredited :  one  gets  the 
cheer  of  their  light,  without  paying  too  great  a  tax. 
Theirs  is  the  beauty  of  the  bird,  or  the  morning  light, 
and  not  of  art.  In  the  thought  of  genius  there  is 
always  a  surprise;  and  the  moral  sentiment  is  well 
called  "the  newness,"  for  it  is  never  other-,  as  new 


52  EXPERIENCE. 

to  the  oldest  intelligence  as  to  the  young  child, — 
"the  kingdom  that  cometh  without  observation." 
In  like  manner,  for  practical  success,  there  must  not 
be  too  much  design.  A  man  will  not  be  observed  in 
doing  that  which  he  can  do  best.  There  is  a  certain 
magic  about  his  properest  action,  which  stupefies  your 
powers  of  observation,  so  that  though  it  is  done  be 
fore  you,  you  wist  not  of  it.  The  art  of  life  has  a 
pudency,  and  will  not  be  exposed.  Every  man  is 
an  impossibility,  until  he  is  born ;  every  thing  im 
possible,  until  we  see  a  success.  The  ardors  of  piety 
agree  at  last  with  the  coldest  scepticism,  —  that  noth 
ing  is  of  us  or  our  works,  —  that  all  is  of  God.  Na 
ture  will  not  spare  us  the  smallest  leaf  of  laurel.  All 
writing  comes  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  all  doing 
and  having.  I  would  gladly  be  moral,  and  keep  due 
metes  and  bounds,  which  I  dearly  love,  and  allow  the 
most  to  the  will  of  man,  but  I  have  set  my  heart  on 
honesty  in  this  chapter,  and  I  can  see  nothing  at 
last,  in  success  or  failure,  than  more  or  less  of  vital 
force  supplied  from  the  Eternal.  The  results  of  life 
are  uncalculated  and  uncalculable.  The  years  teach 
much  which  the  days  never  know.  The  persons  who 
compose  our  company,  converse,  and  come  and  go, 
and  design  and  execute  many  things,  and  somewhat 
comes  of  it  all,  but  an  unlocked  for  result.  The  in 
dividual  is  always  mistaken.  He  designed  many 
things,  and  drew  in  other  persons  as  coadjutors,  quar 
relled  with  some  or  all,  blundered  much,  and  some 
thing  is  done ;  all  are  a  little  advanced,  but  the  indi 
vidual  is  always  mistaken.  It  turns  out  somewhat 
new,  and  very  unlike  what  he  promised  himself. 


EXPERIENCE.  53 

The  ancients,  struck  with  this  irreducibleness  of 
the  elements  of  human  life  to  calculation,  exalted 
Chance  into  a  divinity,  but  that  is  to  stay  too  long 
at  the  spark,  —  which  glitters  truly  at  one  point,  — 
but  the  universe  is  warm  with  the  latency  of  the  same 
fire.  The  miracle  of  life  which  will  not  be  expounded, 
but  will  remain  a  miracle,  introduces  a  new  element. 
In  the  growth  of  the  embryo,  Sir  Everard  Home,  I 
think,  noticed  that  the  evolution  was  not  from  one 
central  point,  but  co-active  from  three  or  more  points. 
Life  has  no  memory.  That  which  proceeds  in  suc 
cession  might  be  remembered,  but  that  which  is  co 
existent,  or  ejaculated  from  a  deeper  cause,  as  yet  far 
from  being  conscious,  knows  not  its  own  tendency. 
So  is  it  with  us,  now  sceptical,  or  without  unity,  be 
cause  immersed  in  forms  and  effects  all  seeming  to  be 
of  equal  yet  hostile  value,  and  now  religious,  whilst 
in  the  reception  of  spiritual  law.  Bear  with  these 
distractions,  with  this  coetaneous  growth  of  the  parts  : 
they  will  one  day  be  members,  and  obey  one  will. 
On  that  one  will,  on  that  secret  cause,  they  nail  our 
attention  and  hope.  Life  is  hereby  melted  into  an 
expectation  or  a  religion.  Underneath  the  inhar 
monious  and  trivial  particulars,  is  a  musical  perfection, 
the  Ideal  journeying  always  with  us,  the  heaven  with 
out  rent  or  seam.  Do  but  observe  the  mode  of  our 
illumination.  When  I  converse  with  a  profound 
mind,  or  if  at  any  time  being  alone  I  have  good 
thoughts,  I  do  not  at  once  arrive  at  satisfactions,  as 
when,  being  thirsty,  I  drink  water,  or  go  to  the  fire, 
being  cold :  no !  but  I  am  at  first  apprised  of  my 
vicinity  to  a  new  and  excellent  region  of  life.  By 


54  EXPERIENCE. 

persisting  to  read  or  to  think,  this  region  gives  further 
sign  of  itself,  as  it  were  in  flashes  of  light,  in  sudden 
discoveries  of  its  profound  beauty  and  repose,  as  if 
the  clouds  that  covered  it  parted  at  intervals,  and 
showed  the  approaching  traveller  the  inland  moun 
tains,  with  the  tranquil  eternal  meadows  spread  at 
their  base,  whereon  flocks  graze,  and  shepherds  pipe 
and  dance.  But  every  insight  from  this  realm  of 
thought  is  felt  as  initial,  and  promises  a  sequel.  I  do 
not  make  it ;  I  arrive  there,  and  behold  what  was 
there  already.  I  make !  O,  no  !  I  clap  my  hands  in 
infantile  joy  and  amazement,  before  the  first  opening 
to  me  of  this  august  magnificence,  old  with  the  love 
and  homage  of  innumerable  ages,  young  with  the  life 
of  life,  the  sunbright  Mecca  of  the  desert.  And  what 
a  future  it  opens  !  I  feel  a  new  heart  beating  with  the 
love  of  the  new  beauty.  I  am  ready  to  die  out  of 
nature,  and  be  born  again  into  this  new  yet  unap 
proachable  America  I  have  found  in  the  West. 

Since  neither  now  nor  yesterday  began 

These  thoughts,  which  have  been  ever,  nor  yet  can 

A  man  be  found  who  their  first  entrance  knew. 

If  I  have  described  life  as  a  flux  of  moods,  I  must 
now  add,  that  there  is  that  in  us  which  changes  not, 
and  which  ranks  all  sensations  and  states  of  mind. 
The  consciousness  in  each  man  is  a  sliding  scale, 
which  identifies  him  now  with  the  First  Cause,  and 
now  with  the  flesh  of  his  body ;  life  above  life,  in  in 
finite  degrees.  The  sentiment  from  which  it  sprung 
determines  the  dignity  of  any  deed,  and  the  question 
ever  is,  not,  what  you  have  done  or  forborne,  but,  at 
whose  command  you  have  done  or  forborne  it. 


EXPERIENCE.  55 

Fortune,  Minerva,  Muse,  Holy  Ghost,  —  these  are 
quaint  names,  too  narrow  to  cover  this  unbounded 
substance.  The  baffled  intellect  must  still  kneel  be 
fore  this  cause,  which  refuses  to  be  named,  —  ineffa 
ble  cause,  which  every  fine  genius  has  essayed  to 
represent  by  some  emphatic  symbol,  as,  Thales  by 
water,  Anaximenes  by  air,  Anaxagoras  by  (Nov?) 
thought,  Zoroaster  by  fire,  Jesus  and  the  moderns  by 
love  :  and  the  metaphor  of  each  has  become  a  na 
tional  religion.  The  Chinese  Mencius  has  not  been 
the  least  successful  in  his  generalization.  "  I  fully 
understand  language,"  he  said,  "and  nourish  well 
my  vast-flowing  vigor." — "I  beg  to  ask  what  you 
call  vast-flowing  vigor?11  —  said  his  companion. 
"  The  explanation,"  replied  Mencius,  "is  difficult. 
This  vigor  is  supremely  great,  and  in  the  highest 
degree  unbending.  Nourish  it  correctly,  and  do  it 
no  injury,  and  it  will  fill  up  the  vacancy  between 
heaven  and  earth.  This  vigor  accords  with  and  as 
sists  justice  and  reason,  and  leaves  no  hunger."  —  In 
our  more  correct  writing,  we  give  to  this  generaliza 
tion  the  name  of  Being,  and  thereby  confess  that  we 
have  arrived  as  far  as  we  can  go.  Suffice  it  for  the 
joy  of  the  universe,  that  we  have  not  arrived  at  a 
wall,  but  at  interminable  oceans.  Our  life  seems  not 
present,  so  much  as  prospective  ;  not  for  the  affairs 
on  which  it  is  wasted,  but  as  a  hint  of  this  vast-flow 
ing  vigor.  Most  of  life  seems  to  be  mere  advertise 
ment  of  faculty :  information  is  given  us  not  to  sell 
ourselves  cheap  ;  that  we  are  very  great.  So,  in  par 
ticulars,  our  greatness  is  always  in  a  tendency  or 
direction,  not  in  an  action.  It  is  for  us  to  believe  in 


56  EXPERIENCE. 

the  rule,  not  in  the  exception.  The  noble  are  thus 
known  from  the  ignoble.  So  in  accepting  the  leading 
of  the  sentiments,  it  is  not  what  we  believe  concern 
ing  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or  the  like,  but  the 
universal  impulse  to  believe,  that  is  the  material  cir 
cumstance,  and  is  the  principal  fact  in  the  history  of 
the  globe.  Shall  we  describe  this  cause  as  that 
which  works  directly?  The  spirit  is  not  helpless  or 
needful  of  mediate  organs.  It  has  plentiful  powers 
and  direct  effects.  I  am  explained  without  explain 
ing,  I  am  felt  without  acting,  and  where  I  am  not. 
Therefore  all  just  persons  are  satisfied  with  their  own 
praise.  They  refuse  to  explain  themselves,  and  are 
content  that  new  actions  should  do  them  that  office. 
They  believe  that  we  communicate  without  speech, 
and  above  speech,  and  that  no  right  action  of  ours  is 
quite  unaffecting  to  our  friends,  at  whatever  distance  ; 
for  the  influence  of  action  is  not  to  be  measured  by 
miles.  Why  should  I  fret  myself,  because  a  circum 
stance  has  occurred,  which  hinders  my  presence 
where  I  was  expected?  If  I  am  not  at  the  meeting, 
my  presence  where  I  am,  should  be  as  useful  to  the 
commonwealth  of  friendship  and  wisdom,  as  would 
be  my  presence  in  that  place.  I  exert  the  same  qual 
ity  of  power  in  all  places.  Thus  journeys  the  mighty 
Ideal  before  us ;  it  never  was  known  to  fall  into  the 
rear.  No  man  ever  came  to  an  experience  which  was 
satiating,  but  his  good  is  tidings  of  a  better.  On 
ward  and  onward!  In  liberated  moments,  we  know 
that  a  new  picture  of  life  and  duty  is  already  possi 
ble  ;  the  elements  already  exist  in  many  minds  around 
you,  of  a  doctrine  of  life  which  shall  transcend  any 


EXPERIENCE.  5  ^ 

written  record  we  have.  The  new  statement  will 
comprise  the  scepticisms,  as  well  as  the  faiths  of  soci 
ety,  and  out  of  unbeliefs  a  creed  shall  be  formed. 
For,  scepticisms  are  not  gratuitous  or  lawless,  but 
are  limitations  of  the  affirmative  statement,  and  the 
new  philosophy  must  take  them  in,  and  make  affirma 
tions  outside  of  them,  just  as  much  as  it  must  include 
the  oldest  beliefs. 

It  is  very  unhappy,  but  too  late  to  be  helped,  the 
discovery  we  have  made,  that  we  exist.  That  dis 
covery  is  called  the  Fall  of  Man.  Ever  afterwards, 
we  suspect  our  instruments.  We  have  learned  that 
we  do  not  see  directly,  but  mediately,  and  that  we 
have  no  means  of  correcting  these  colored  and  dis 
torting  lenses  which  we  are,  or  of  computing  the 
amount  of  their  errors.  Perhaps  these  subject-lenses 
have  a  creative  power;  perhaps  there  are  no  objects. 
Once  we  lived  in  what  we  saw ;  now,  the  rapacious- 
ness  of  this  new  power,  which  threatens  to  absorb  all 
things,  engages  us.  Nature,  art,  persons,  letters, 
religions,  —  objects,  successively  tumble  in,  and  God 
is  but  one  of  its  ideas.  Nature  and  literature  are 
subjective  phenomena;  every  evil  and  every  good 
thing  is  a  shadow  which  we  cast.  The  street  is  full 
of  humiliations  to  the  proud.  As  the  fop  contrived 
to  dress  his  bailiffs  in  his  livery,  and  make  them  wait 
on  his  guests  at  table,  so  the  chagrins  which  the  bad 
heart  gives  off  as  bubbles,  at  once  take  form  as  ladies 
and  gentlemen  in  the  street,  shopmen  or  barkeepers 
in  hotels,  and  threaten  or  insult  whatever  is  threaten- 
able  and  insultable  in  us.  Tis  the  same  with  our 
idolatries.  People  forget  that  it  is  the  eye  which 


58  EXPERIENCE. 

makes  the  horizon,  and  the  rounding  mind's  eye 
which  makes  this  or  that  man  a  type  or  representa 
tive  of  humanity  with  the  name  of  hero  or  saint. 
Jesus  the  "providential  man,"  is  a  good  man  on 
whoni  many  people  are  agreed  that  these  optical  laws 
shall  take  effect.  By  love  on  one  part,  and  by  for 
bearance  to  press  objection  on  the  other  part,  it  is 
for  a  time  settled,  that  we  will  look  at  him  in  the 
centre  of  the  horizon,  and  ascribe  to  him  the  proper 
ties  that  will  attach  to  any  man  so  seen.  But  the 
longest  love  or  aversion  has  a  speedy  term.  The 
great  and  crescive  self,  rooted  in  absolute  nature, 
supplants  all  relative  existence,  and  ruins  the  king 
dom  of  mortal  friendship  and  love.  Marriage  (in 
what  is  called  the  spiritual  world)  is  impossible,  be 
cause  of  the  inequality  between  every  subject  and 
every  object.  The  subject  is  the  receiver  of  God 
head,  and  at  every  comparison  must  feel  his  being 
enhanced  by  that  cryptic  might.  Though  not  in 
energy,  yet  by  presence,  this  magazine  of  substance 
cannot  be  otherwise  than  felt :  nor  can  any  force  of 
intellect  attribute  to  the  object  the  proper  deity  which 
sleeps  or  wakes  forever  in  every  subject.  Never  can 
love  make  consciousness  and  ascription  equal  in  force. 
There  will  be  the  same  gulf  between  every  me  and 
thee,  as  between  the  original  and  the  picture.  The 
universe  is  the  bride  of  the  soul.  All  private  sym 
pathy  is  partial.  Two  human  beings  are  like  globes, 
which  can  touch  only  in  a  point,  and,  whilst  they 
remain  in  contact,  all  other  points  of  each  of  the 
spheres  are  inert;  their  turn  must  also  come,  and 
the  longer  a  particular  union  lasts,  the  more  energy 
of  appetency  the  parts  not  in  union  acquire. 


EXPERIENCE.  59 

Life  will  be  imaged,  but  cannot  be  divided  nor 
doubled.  Any  invasion  of  its  unity  would  be  chaos. 
The  soul  is  not  twin-born,  but  the  only-begotten, 
and  though  revealing  itself  as  child  in  time,  child  in 
appearance,  is  of  a  fatal  and  universal  power,  admit 
ting  no  co-life.  Every  day,  every  act  betrays  the 
ill-concealed  deity.  We  believe  in  ourselves,  as  we 
do  not  believe  in  others.  We  permit  all  things  to 
ourselves,  and  that  which  we  call  sin  in  others,  is 
experiment  for  us.  It  is  an  instance  of  our  faith  in 
ourselves,  that  men  never  speak  of  crime  as  lightly 
as  they  think :  or,  every  man  thinks  a  latitude  safe 
for  himself,  which  is  nowise  to  be  indulged  to  an 
other.  The  act  looks  very  differently  on  the  inside, 
and  on  the  outside ;  in  its  quality,  and  in  its  con 
sequences.  Murder  in  the  murderer  is  no  such  ruin 
ous  thought  as  poets  and  romancers  will  have  it ;  it 
does  not  unsettle  him,  or  fright  him  from  his  ordi 
nary  notice  of  trifles:  it  is  an  act  quite  easy  to  be 
contemplated,  but  in  its  sequel,  it  turns  out  to  be  a 
horrible  jangle  and  confounding  of  all  relations. 
Especially  the  crimes  that  spring  from  love,  seem 
right  and  fair  from  the  actor's  point  of  view,  but, 
when  acted,  are  found  destructive  of  society.  No 
man  at  last  believes  that  he  can  be  lost,  nor  that  the 
crime  in  him  is  as  black  as  in  the  felon.  Because  the 
intellect  qualifies  in  our  own  case  the  moral  judg 
ments.  For  there  is  no  crime  to  the  intellect.  That 
is  antinomian  or  hypernomian,  and  judges  law  as 
well  as  fact.  "  It  is  worse  than  a  crime,  it  is  a  blun 
der,11  said  Napoleon,  speaking  the  language  of  the 
intellect.  To  it,  the  world  is  a  problem  in  mathe- 


60  EXPERIENCE. 

matics  or  the  science  of  quantity,  and  it  leaves  out 
praise  and  blame,  and  all  weak  emotions.  All  steal 
ing  is  comparative.  If  you  come  to  absolutes,  pray 
who  does  not  steal?  Saints  are  sad,  because  they 
behold  sin,  (even  when  they  speculate,)  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  conscience,  and  not  of  the  intel 
lect  ;  a  confusion  of  thought.  Sin  seen  from  the 
thought,  is  a  diminution  or  less :  seen  from  the  con 
science  or  will,  it  is  pravity  or  bad.  The  intellect 
names  it  shade,  absence  of  light,  and  no  essence. 
The  conscience  must  feel  it  as  essence,  essential  evil. 
This  it  is  not :  it  has  an  objective  existence,  but  no 
subjective. 

Thus  inevitably  does  the  universe  wear  our  color, 
and  every  object  fall  successively  into  the  subject 
itself.  The  subject  exists,  the  subject  enlarges ;  all 
things  sooner  or  later  fall  into  place.  As  I  am,  so 
I  see ;  use  what  language  we  will,  we  can  never  say 
any  thing  but  what  we  are;  Hermes,  Cadmus,  Co 
lumbus,  Newton,  Buonaparte,  are  the  mind's  minis 
ters.  Instead  of  feeling  a  poverty  when  we  encounter 
a  great  man,  let  us  treat  the  new  comer  like  a  travel 
ling  geologist,  who  passes  through  our  estate,  and 
shows  us  good  slate,  or  limestone,  or  anthracite,  in 
our  brush  pasture.  The  partial  action  of  each  strong 
mind  in  one  direction,  is  a  telescope  for  the  objects 
on  which  it  is  pointed.  But  every  other  part  of 
knowledge  is  to  be  pushed  to  the  same  extravagance, 
ere  the  soul  attains  her  due  sphericity.  Do  you  see 
that  kitten  chasing  so  prettily  her  own  tail  ?  If  you 
could  look  with  her  eyes,  you  might  see  her  sur 
rounded  with  hundreds  of  figures  performing  complex 


EXPERIENCE,  61 

dramas,  with  tragic  and  comic  issues,  long  conver 
sations,  many  characters,  many  ups  and  downs  of 
fate,  —  and  meantime  it  is  only  puss  and  her  tail. 
How  long  before  our  masquerade  will  end  its  noise  of 
tamborines,  laughter,  and  shouting,  and  we  shall  find 
it  was  a  solitary  performance  ?  —  A  subject  and  an 
object,  —  it  takes  so  much  to  make  the  galvanic  cir 
cuit  complete,  but  magnitude  adds  nothing.  What 
imports  it  whether  it  is  Kepler  and  the  sphere; 
Columbus  and  America ;  a  reader  and  his  book ;  or 
puss  with  her  tail? 

It  is  true  that  all  the  muses  and  love  and  religion 
hate  these  developments,  and  will  find  a  way  to  pun 
ish  the  chemist,  who  publishes  in  the  parlor  the 
secrets  of  the  laboratory.  And  we  cannot  say  too 
little  of  our  constitutional  necessity  of  seeing  things 
under  private  aspects,  or  saturated  with  our  humors. 
And  yet  is  the  God  the  native  of  these  bleak  rocks. 
That  need  makes  in  morals  the  capital  virtue  of  self- 
trust.  We  must  hold  hard  to  this  poverty,  however 
scandalous,  and  by  more  vigorous  self-recoveries,  after 
the  sallies  of  action,  possess  our  axis  more  firmly. 
The  life  of  truth  is  cold,  and  so  far  mournful ;  but  it 
is  not  the  slave  of  tears,  contritions,  and  perturba 
tions.  It  does  not  attempt  another's  work,  nor  adopt 
another's  facts.  It  is  a  main  lesson  of  wisdom  to 
know  your  own  from  another's.  I  have  learned  that 
I  cannot  dispose  of  other  people's  facts ;  but  I  pos 
sess  such  a  key  to  my  own,  as  persuades  me  against 
all  their  denials,  that  they  also  have  a  key  to  theirs. 
A  sympathetic  person  is  placed  in  the  dilemma  of  a 
swimmer  among  drowning  men,  who  all  catch  at  him, 


62  EXPERIENCE. 

and  if  he  gives  so  much  as  a  leg  or  a  finger,  they  will 
drown  him.  •  They  wish  to  be  saved  from  the  mis 
chiefs  of  their  vices,  but  not  from  their  vices.  Charity 
would  be  wasted  on  this  poor  waiting  on  the  symp 
toms.  A  wise  and  hardy  physician  will  say,  Come 
out  of  that,  as  the  first  condition  of  advice. 

In  this  our  talking  America,  we  are  ruined  by  our 
good  nature  and  listening  on  all  sides.  This  com 
pliance  takes  away  the  power  of  being  greatly  use 
ful.  A  man  should  not  be  able  to  look  other  than 
directly  and  forthright.  A  preoccupied  attention 
is  the  only  answer  to  the  importunate  frivolity  of 
other  people :  an  attention,  and  to  an  aim  which 
makes  their  wants  frivolous.  This  is  a  divine  an 
swer,  and  leaves  no  appeal,  and  no  hard  thoughts. 
In  Flaxman's  drawing  of  the  Eumenides  of  ^Eschylus, 
Orestes  supplicates  Apollo,  whilst  the  Furies  sleep  on 
the  threshold.  The  face  of  the  god  expresses  a  shade 
of  regret  and  compassion,  but  calm  with  the  con 
viction  of  the  irreconcilableness  of  the  two  spheres. 
He  is  born  into  other  politics,  into  the  eternal  and 
beautiful.  The  man  at  his  feet  asks  for  his  interest 
in  turmoils  of  the  earth,  into  which  his  nature  cannot 
enter.  And  the  Eumenides  there  lying  express  pic- 
torially  this  disparity.  The  god  is  surcharged  with 
his  divine  destiny. 

Illusion,  Temperament,  Succession,  Surface,  Sur 
prise,  Reality,  Subjectiveness,  —  these  are  threads 
on  the  loom  of  time,  these  are  the  lords  of  life.  I 
dare  not  assume  to  give  their  order,  but  I  name  them 
as  I  find  them  in  my  way.  I  know  better  than  to 


EXPERIENCE.  63 

claim  any  completeness  for  my  picture.  I  am  a  frag 
ment,  and  this  is  a  fragment  of  me.  I  can  very  con 
fidently  announce  one  or  another  law,  which  throws 
itself  into  relief  and  form,  but  I  am  too  young  yet  by 
some  ages  to  compile  a  code.  I  gossip  for  my  hour 
concerning  the  eternal  politics.  I  have  seen  many 
fair  pictures  not  in  vain.  A  wonderful  time  I  have 
lived  in.  I  am  not  the  novice  I  was  fourteen,  nor 
yet  seven  years  ago.  Let  who  will  ask,  where  is  the 
fruit  ?  I  find  a  private  fruit  sufficient.  This  is  a  fruit, 
—  that  I  should  not  ask  for  a  rash  effect  from  medi 
tations,  counsels,  and  the  hiving  of  truths.  I  should 
feel  it  pitiful  to  demand  a  result  on  this  town  and 
county,  an  overt  effect  on  the  instant  month  and  year. 
The  effect  is  deep  and  secular  as  the  cause.  It  works 
on  periods  in  which  mortal  lifetime  is  lost.  All  I 
know  is  reception ;  I  am  and  I  have :  but  I  do  not 
get,  and  when  I  have  fancied  I  had  gotten  anything, 
I  found  I  did  not.  I  worship  with  wonder  the  great 
Fortune.  My  reception  has  been  so  large,  that  I  am 
not  annoyed  by  receiving  this  or  that  superabun 
dantly.  I  say  to  the  Genius,  if  he  will  pardon  the 
proverb,  In  for  a  mill,  in  for  a  million.  When  I 
receive  a  new  gift,  I  do  not  macerate  my  body  to 
make  the  account  square,  for,  if  I  should  die,  I  could 
not  make  the  account  square.  The  benefit  overran 
the  merit  the  first  day,  and  has  overrun  the  merit  ever 
since.  The  merit  itself,  so-called,  I  reckon  part  of 
the  receiving. 

Also,  that  hankering  after  an  overt  or  practical 
effect  seems  to  me  an  apostasy.  In  good  earnest,  I 
am  willing  to  spare  this  most  unnecessary  deal  of 


64  EXPERIENCE. 

doing.  Life  wears  to  me  a  visionary  face.  Hardest, 
roughest  action  is  visionary  also.  It  is  but  a  choice 
between  soft  and  turbulent  dreams.  People  disparage 
knowing  and  the  intellectual  life,  and  urge  doing.  I 
am  very  content  with  knowing,  if  only  I  could  know. 
That  is  an  august  entertainment,  and  would  suffice 
me  a  great  while.  To  know  a  little,  would  be  worth 
the  expense  of  this  world.  I  hear  always  the  law  of 
Adrastia,  "that  every  soul  which  had  acquired  any 
truth,  should  be  safe  from  harm  until  another  period." 
I  know  that  the  world  I  converse  with  in  the  city 
and  in  the  farms,  is  not  the  world  I  think.  I  observe 
that  difference,  and  shall  observe  it.  One  day,  I 
shall  know  the  value  and  law  of  this  discrepance. 
But  I  have  not  found  that  much  was  gained  by 
manipular  attempts  to  realize  the  world  of  thought. 
Many  eager  persons  successively  make  an  experiment 
in  this  way,  and  make  themselves  ridiculous.  They 
acquire  democratic  manners,  they  foam  at  the  mouth, 
they  hate  and  deny.  Worse,  I  observe,  that,  in  the 
history  of  mankind,  there  is  never  a  solitary  exam 
ple  of  success,  —  taking  their  own  tests  of  success.  I 
say  this  polemically,  or  in  reply  to  the  inquiry,  why 
not  realize  your  world?  But  far  be  from  me  the 
despair  which  prejudges  the  law  by  a  paltry  empiri 
cism,  —  since  there  never  was  a  right  endeavor,  but 
it  succeeded.  Patience  and  patience,  we  shall  win 
at  the  last.  We  must  be  very  suspicious  of  the  de 
ceptions  of  the  element  of  time.  It  takes  a  good 
deal  of  time  to  eat  or  to  sleep,  or  to  earn  a  hundred 
dollars,  and  a  very  little  time  to  entertain  a  hope  and 
an  insight  which  becomes  the  light  of  our  life.  We 


EXPERIENCE.  65 

dress  our  garden,  eat  our  dinners,  discuss  the  house 
hold  with  our  wives,  and  these  things  make  no  im 
pression,  are  forgotten  next  week ;  but  in  the  solitude 
to  which  every  man  is  always  returning,  he  has  a 
sanity  and  revelations,  which  in  his  passage  into  new 
worlds  he  will  carry  with  him.  Never  mind  the  rid 
icule,  never  mind  the  defeat :  up  again,  old  heart! 
—  it  seems  to  say,  —  there  is  victory  yet  for  all  jus 
tice  ;  and  the  true  romance  which  the  world  exists  to 
realize,  will  be  che  transformation  of  genius  into  prac 
tical  power. 


ESSAY    III. 

CHARACTER. 

The  sun  set ;  but  set  not  his  hope  • 

Stars  rose ;  his  faith  was  earlier  up : 

Fixed  on  the  enormous  galaxy, 

Deeper  and  older  seemed  his  eye  : 

And  matched  his  sufferance  sublime 

The  taciturnity  of  time. 

He  spoke,  and  words  more  soft  than  rain 

Brought  the  Age  of  Gold  again: 

His  action  won  such  reverence  sweet, 

As  hid  all  measure  of  the  feat. 


Work  of  his  hand 

He  nor  commends  nor  grieves : 

Pleads  for  itself  the  fact ; 

As  unrepenting  Nature  leaves 

Her  every  act. 

I  HAVE  read  that  those  who  listened  to  Lord  Chat 
ham  felt  that  there  was  something  finer  in  the  man, 
than  anything  which  he  said.  It  has  been  com 
plained  of  our  brilliant  English  historian  of  the 
French  Revolution,  that  when  he  has  told  all  his 
facts  about  Mirabeau,  they  do  not  justify  his  estimate 
of  his  genius.  The  Gracchi,  Agis,  Cleomenes,  and 
others  of  Plutarch's  heroes,  do  not  in  the  record  of 
66 


CHARACTER.  67 

facts  equal  their  own  fame.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  are  men  of  great 
figure,  and  of  few  deeds.  We  cannot  find  the  small 
est  part  of  the  personal  weight  of  Washington,  in  the 
narrative  of  his  exploits.  The  authority  of  the  name 
of  Schiller  is  too  great  for  his  books.  This  inequal 
ity  of  the  reputation  to  the  works  or  the  anecdotes, 
is  not  accounted  for  by  saying  that  the  reverberation 
is  longer  than  the  thunder-clap;  but  somewhat  re 
sided  in  these  men  which  begot  an  expectation  that 
outran  all  their  performance.  The  largest  part  of 
their  power  was  latent.  This  is  that  which  we  call 
Character,  —  a  reserved  force  which  acts  directly  by 
presence,  and  without  means.  It  is  conceived  of 
as  a  certain  undemonstrable  force,  a  Familiar  or 
Genius,  by  whose  impulses  the  man  is  guided,  but 
whose  counsels  he  cannot  impart ;  which  is  company 
for  him,  so  that  such  men  are  often  solitary,  or  if 
they  chance  to  be  social,  do  not  need  society,  but 
can  entertain  themselves  very  well  alone.  The  pur 
est  literary  talent  appears  at  one  time  great,  at 
another  time  small,  but  character  is  of  a  stellar  and 
undiminishable  greatness.  What  others  effect  by  tal 
ent  or  by  eloquence  this  man  accomplishes  by  some 
magnetism.  "  Half  his  strength  he  put  not  forth." 
His  victories  are  by  demonstration  of  superiority, 
and  not  by  crossing  of  bayonets.  He  conquers,  be 
cause  his  arrival  alters  the  face  of  affairs.  "  '  O  lole! 
how  did  you  know  that  Hercules  was  a  god:? '  *  Be 
cause,1  answered  lole,  '  I  was  content  the  "moment 
my  eyes  fell  on  him.  When  I  beheld  Theseus,  I  de 
sired  that  I  might  see  him  offer  battle,  or  at  least 


68  CHARACTER, 

guide  his  horses  in  the  chariot-race  ;  but  Hercules  did 
not  wait  for  a  contest ;  he  conquered  whether  he  stood, 
or  walked,  or  sat,  or  whatever  thing  he  did.1 "  Man, 
ordinarily  a  pendant  to  events,  only  half  attached, 
and  that  awkwardly,  to  the  world  he  lives  in,  in  these 
examples  appears  to  share  the  life  of  things,  and  to 
be  an  expression  of  the  same  laws  which  control  the 
tides  and  the  sun,  numbers  and  quantities. 

But  to  use  a  more  modest  illustration,  and  nearer 
home,  I  observe,  that  in  our  political  elections,  where 
this  element,  if  it  appears  at  all,  can  only  occur  in  its 
coarsest  form,  we  sufficiently  understand  its  incompar 
able  rate.  The  people  know  that  they  need  in  their 
representative  much  more  than  talent,  namely,  the 
power  to  make  his  talent  trusted.  They  cannot  come 
at  their  ends  by  sending  to  Congress  a  learned,  acute, 
and  fluent  speaker,  if  he  be  not  one,  who,  before  he 
was  appointed  by  the  people  to  represent  them,  was 
appointed  by  Almighty  God  to  stand  for  a  fact,  — 
invincibly  persuaded  of  that  fact  in  himself,  —  so  that 
the  most  confident  and  the  most  violent  persons  learn 
that  here  is  resistance  on  which  both  impudence  and 
terror  are  wasted,  namely,  faith  in  a  fact.  The  men 
who  carry  their  points  do  not  need  to  inquire  of  their 
constituents  what  they  should  say,  but  are  themselves 
the  country  which  they  represent :  nowhere  are  its 
emotions  or  opinions  so  instant  and  true  as  in  them ; 
nowhere  so  pure  from  a  selfish  infusion.  The  con 
stituency  at  home  hearkens  to  their  words,  watches 
the  color  of  their  cheek,  and  therein,  as  in  a  glass, 
dresses  its  own.  Our  public  assemblies  are  pretty 
good  tests  of  manly  force.  Our  frank  countrymen  of 


CHARACTER.  69 

the  west  and  south  have  a  taste  for  character,  and  like 
to  know  whether  the  New  Englander  is  a  substantial 
man,  or  whether  the  hand  can  pass  through  him. 

The  same  motive  force  appears  in  trade.  There 
are  geniuses  in  trade,  as  well  as  in  war,  or  the  state, 
or  letters ;  and  the  reason  why  this  or  that  man  is 
fortunate,  is  not  to  be  told.  It  lies  in  the  man  :  that 
is  all  anybody  can  tell  you  about  it.  See  him,  and 
you  will  know  as  easily  why  he  succeeds,  as,  if  you 
see  Napoleon,  you  would  comprehend  his  fortune. 
In  the  new  objects  we  recognize  the  old  game,  the 
habit  of  fronting  the  fact,  and  not  dealing  with  it  at 
second-hand,  through  the  perceptions  of  somebody 
else.  Nature  seems  to  authorize  trade,  as  soon  as  you 
see  the  natural  merchant,  who  appears  not  so  much 
a  private  agent,  as  her  factor  and  Minister  of  Com 
merce.  His  natural  probity  combines  with  his  insight 
into  the  fabric  of  society,  to  put  him  above  tricks,  and 
he  communicates  to  all  his  own  faith,  that  contracts 
are  of  no  private  interpretation.  The  habit  of  his 
mind  is  a  reference  to  standards  of  natural  equity  and 
public  advantage;  and  he  inspires  respect,  and  the 
wish  to  deal  with  him,  both  for  the  quiet  spirit  of 
honor  which  attends  him,  and  for  the  intellectual  pas 
time  which  the  spectacle  of  so  much  ability  affords. 
This  immensely  stretched  trade,  which  makes  the 
capes  of  the  Southern  Ocean  his  wharves,  and  the 
Atlantic  Sea  his  familiar  port,  centres  in  his  brain 
only ;  and  nobody  in  the  universe  can  make  his  place 
good.  In  his  parlor,  I  see  very  well  that  he  has  been 
at  hard  work  this  morning,  with  that  knitted  brow, 
and  that  settled  humor,  which  all  his  desire  to  be 


70  CHARACTER. 

courteous  cannot  shake  off.  I  see  plainly  how  many 
firm  acts  have  been  done  ;  how  many  valiant  noes  have 
this  day  been  spoken,  when  others  would  have  uttered 
ruinous  yeas.  I  see,  with  the  pride  of  art,  and  skill 
of  masterly  arithmetic  and  power  of  remote  combina  - 
tion,  the  consciousness  of  being  an  agent  and  play 
fellow  of  the  original  laws  of  the  world.  He  too  be 
lieves  that  none  can  supply  him,  and  that  a  man  must 
be  born  to  trade,  or  he  cannot  learn  it. 

This  virtue  draws  the  mind  more,  when  it  appears 
in  action  to  ends  not  so  mixed.  It  works  with  most 
energy  in  the  smallest  companies  and  in  private  rela 
tions.  In  all  cases,  it  is  an  extraordinary  and  incom 
putable  agent.  The  excess  of  physical  strength  is 
paralyzed  by  it.  Higher  natures  overpower  lower 
ones  by  affecting  them  with  a  certain  sleep.  The 
faculties  are  locked  up,  and  offer  no  resistance.  Per 
haps  that  is  the  universal  law.  When  the  high  can 
not  bring  up  the  low  to  itself,  it  benumbs  it,  as  man 
charms  down  the  resistance  of  the  lower  animals. 
Men  exert  on  each  other  a  similar  occult  power.  How 
often  has  the  influence  of  a  true  master  realized  all  the 
tales  of  magic  !  A  river  of  command  seemed  to  run 
down  from  his  eyes  into  all  those  who  beheld  him,  a 
torrent  of  strong  sad  light,  like  an  Ohio  or  Danube, 
which  pervaded  them  with  his  thoughts,  and  colored 
all  events  with  the  hue  of  his  mind.  "  What  means 
did  you  employ  ?  "  was  the  question  asked  of  the  wife 
of  Concini,  in  regard  to  her  treatment  of  Mary  of 
Medici;  and  the  answer  was,  "Only  that  influence 
which  every  strong  mind  has  over  a  weak  one.1'  Can 
not  Caesar  in  irons  shuffle  off  the  irons,  and  transfer 


CHARACTER.  71 

them  to  the  person  of  Hippo  or  Thraso  the  turnkey? 
Is  an  iron  handcuff  so  immutable  a  bond?  Suppose 
a  slaver  on  the  coast  of  Guinea  should  take  on  board 
a  gang  of  negroes,  which  should  contain  persons  of 
the  stamp  of  Toussaint  L'Ouverture  :  or,  let  us  fancy, 
under  these  swarthy  masks  he  has  a  gang  of  Wash- 
ingtons  in  chains.  When  they  arrive  at  Cuba,  will 
the  relative  order  of  the  ship's  company  be  the  same  ? 
Is  there  nothing  but  rope  and  iron?  Is  there  no  love, 
no  reverence?  Is  there  never  a  glimpse  of  right  in  a 
poor  slave-captain's  mind ;  and  cannot  these  be  sup 
posed  available  to  break,  or  elude,  or  in  any  manner 
overmatch  the  tension  of  an  inch  or  two  of  iron  ring  ? 
This  is  a  natural  power,  like  light  and  heat,  and  all 
nature  cooperates  with  it.  The  reason  why  we  feel 
one  man's  presence,  and  do  not  feel  another's,  is  as 
simple  as  gravity.  Truth  is  the  summit  of  being: 
justice  is  the  application  of  it  to  affairs.  All  individ 
ual  natures  stand  in  a  scale,  according  to  the  purity 
of  this  element  in  them.  The  will  of  the  pure  runs 
down  from  them  into  other  natures,  as  water  runs 
down  from  a  higher  into  a  lower  vessel.  This  natural 
force  is  no  more  to  be  withstood,  than  any  other  nat 
ural  force.  We  can  drive  a  stone  upward  for  a  mo 
ment  into  the  air,  but  it  is  yet  true  that  all  stones  will 
forever  fall ;  and  whatever  instances  can  be  quoted  of 
unpunished  theft,  or  of  a  lie  which  somebody  credited, 
justice  must  prevail,  and  it  is  the  privilege  of  truth  to 
make  itself  believed.  Character  is  this  moral  order 
seen  through  the  medium  of  an  individual  nature.  An 
individual  is  an  encloser.  Time  and  space,  liberty 
and  necessity,  truth  and  thought,  are  left  at  large  no 


7  2  CHARACTER. 

longer.  Now,  the  universe  is  a  close  or  pound.  All 
things  exist  in  the  man  tinged  with  the  manners  of 
his  soul.  With  what  quality  is  in  him,  he  infuses  all 
nature  that  he  can  reach ;  nor  does  he  tend  to  lose 
himself  in  vastness,  but,  at  how  long  a  curve  soever, 
all  his  regards  return  into  his  own  good  at  last.  He 
animates  all  he  can,  and  he  sees  only  what  he  ani 
mates.  He  encloses  the  world,  as  the  patriot  does 
his  country,  as  a  material  basis  for  his  character,  and 
a  theatre  for  action.  A  healthy  soul  stands  united 
with  the  Just  and  the  True,  as  the  magnet  arranges 
itself  with  the  pole,  so  that  he  stands  to  all  beholders 
like  a  transparent  object  betwixt  them  and  the  sun, 
and  whoso  journeys  towards  the  sun,  journeys  towards 
that  person.  He  is  thus  the  medium  of  the  highest 
influence  to  all  who  are  not  on  the  same  level.  Thus 
men  of  character  are  the  conscience  of  the  society  to 
which  they  belong. 

The  natural  measure  of  this  power  is  the  resistance 
of  circumstances.  Impure  men  consider  life  as  it  is 
reflected  in  opinions,  events,  and  persons.  They 
cannot  see  the  action,  until  it  is  done.  Yet  its  moral 
element  pre-existed  in  the  actor,  and  its  quality  as 
right  or  wrong,  it  was  easy  to  predict.  Everything 
in  nature  is  bipolar,  or  has  a  positive  and  negative 
pole.  There  is  a  male  and  a  female,  a  spirit  and  a 
fact,  a  north  and  a  south.  Spirit  is  the  positive,  the 
event  is  the  negative.  Will  is  the  north,  action  the 
south  pole.  Character  may  be  ranked  as  having  its 
natural  place  in  the  north.  It  shares  the  magnetic 
currents  of  the  system.  The  feeble  souls  are  drawn 
to  the  south  or  negative  pole.  They  look  at  the 


CHARACTER.  73 

profit  or  hurt  of  the  action.  They  never  behold  a 
principle  until  it  is  lodged  in  a  person.  They  do  not 
wish  to  be  lovely,  but  to  be  loved.  The  class  of 
character  like  to  hear  of  their  faults  :  the  other  class 
do  not  like  to  hear  of  faults ;  they  worship  events ; 
secure  to  them  a  fact,  a  connection,  a  certain  chain  of 
circumstances,  and  they  will  ask  no  more.  The  hero 
sees  that  the  event  is  ancillary :  it  must  follow  him. 
A  given  order  of  events  has  no  power  to  secure  to 
him  the  satisfaction  which  the  imagination  attaches 
to  it ;  the  soul  of  goodness  escapes  from  any  set  of 
circumstances,  whilst  prosperity  belongs  to  a  certain 
mind,  and  will  introduce  that  power  and  victory 
which  is  its  natural  fruit,  into  any  order  of  events. 
No  change  of  circumstances  can  repair  a  defect  of 
character.  We  boast  our  emancipation  from  many 
superstitions ;  but  if  we  have  broken  any  idols,  it  is 
through  a  transfer  of  the  idolatry.  What  have  I 
gained,  that  I  no  longer  immolate  a  bull  to  Jove, 
or  to  Neptune,  or  a  mouse  to  Hecate ;  that  I  do  not 
tremble  before  the  Eumenides,  or  the  Catholic 
Purgatory,  or  the  Calvinistic  Judgment-day,  —  if  I 
quake  at  opinion,  the  public  opinion,  as  we  call  it ; 
or  at  the  threat  of  assault,  or  contumely,  or  bad 
neighbors,  or  poverty,  or  mutilation,  or  at  the  rumor 
of  revolution,  or  of  murder?  If  I  quake,  what  mat 
ters  it  what  I  quake  at  ?  Our  proper  vice  takes  form 
in  one  or  another  shape,  according  to  the  sex,  age, 
or  temperament  of  the  person,  and,  if  we  are  capable 
of  fear,  will  readily  find  terrors.  The  covetousness 
or  the  malignity  which  saddens  me,  when  I  ascribe 
it  to  society,  is  my  own.  I  am  always  environed  by 


74  CHARACTER. 

« 

myself.  On  the  other  part,  rectitude  is  a  perpetual 
victory,  celebrated  not  by  cries  of  joy,  but  by  seren 
ity,  which  is  joy  fixed  or  habitual.  It  is  disgraceful 
to  fly  to  events  for  confirmation  of  our  truth  and 
worth.  The  capitalist  does  not  run  every  hour  to  the 
broker,  to  coin  his  advantages  into  current  money  of 
the  realm ;  he  is  satisfied  to  read  in  the  quotations  of 
the  market,  that  his  stocks  have  risen.  The*  same 
transport  which  the  occurrence  of  the  best  events  in 
the  best  order  would  occasion  me,  I  must  learn  to 
taste  purer  in  the  perception  that  my  position  is 
every  hour  meliorated,  and  does  already  command 
those  events  I  desire.  That  exultation  is  only  to  be 
checked  by  the  foresight  of  an  order  of  things  so 
excellent,  as  to  throw  all  our  prosperities  into  the 
deepest  shade. 

The  face  which  character  wears  to  me  is  self-suf- 
ficingness.  I  revere  the  person  who  is  riches;  so 
that  I  cannot  think  of  him  as  alone,  or  poor,  or 
exiled,  or  unhappy,  or  a  client,  but  as  perpetual 
patron,  benefactor,  and  beatified  man.  Character  is 
centrality,  the  impossibility  of  being  displaced  or 
overset.  A  man  should  give  us  a  sense  of  mass. 
Society  is  frivolous,  and  shreds  its  day  into  scraps, 
its  conversation  into  ceremonies  and  escapes.  But 
if  I  go  to  see  an  ingenious  man,  I  shall  think  myself 
poorly  entertained  if  he  give  me  nimble  pieces  of 
benevolence  and  etiquette ;  rather  he  shall  stand 
stoutly  in  his  place,  and  let  me  apprehend,  if  it  were 
only  his  resistance  ;  know  that  I  have  encountered  a 
new  and  positive  quality ;  —  great  refreshment  for 
both  of  us.  It  is  much,  that  he  does  not  accept  the 


CHARACTER.  75 

conventional  opinions  and  practices.  That  noncon 
formity  will  remain  a  goad  and  remembrancer,  and 
every  inquirer  will  have  to  dispose  of  him,  in  the  first 
place.  There  is  nothing  real  or  useful  that  is  not  a 
seat  of  war.  Our  houses  ring  with  laughter  and  per 
sonal  and  critical  gossip,  but  it  helps  little.  But  the 
uncivil,  unavailable  man,  who  is  a  problem  and  a 
threat  to  society,  whom  it  cannot  let  pass  in  silence, 
but  must  either  worship  or  hate,  —  and  to  whom  all 
parties  feel  related,  both  the  leaders  of  opinion, 
and  the  obscure  and  eccentric,  —  he  helps ;  he  puts 
America  and  Europe  in  the  wrong,  and  destroys  the 
scepticism  which  says,  "  man  is  a  doll,  let  us  eat  and 
drink,  'tis  the  best  we  can  do,"  by  illuminating  the 
untried  and  unknown.  Acquiescence  in  the  estab 
lishment,  and  appeal  to  the  public,  indicate  infirm 
faith,  heads  which  are  not  clear,  and  which  must  see 
a  house  built,  before  they  can  comprehend  the  plan 
of  it.  The  wise  man  not  only  leaves  out  of  his 
thought  the  many,  but  leaves  out  the  few.  Foun 
tains,  fountains,  the  self-moved,  the  absorbed,  the 
commander  because  he  is  commanded,  the  assured, 
the  primary,  —  they  are  good;  for  these  announce 
the  instant  presence  of  supreme  power. 

Our  action  should  rest  mathematically  on  our 
substance.  In  nature,  there  are  ho  false  valuations. 
A  pound  of  water  in  the  ocean-tempest  has  no  more 
gravity  than  in  a  midsummer  pond.  All  things 
work  exactly  according  to  their  quality,  and  accord 
ing-  to  their  quantity ;  attempt  nothing  they  cannot 
do,  except  man  only.  He  has  pretension  :  he  wishes 
and  attempts  things  beyond  his  force.  I  read  m  a 


76  CHARACTER. 

book  of  English  memoirs,  "  Mr.  Fox  (afterwards 
Lord  Holland)  said,  he  must  have  the  Treasury ;  he 
had  served  up  to  it,  and  would  have  it."  —  Xenophon 
and  his  Ten  Thousand  were  quite  equal  to  what  they 
attempted,  and  did  it ;  so  equal,  that  it  was  not  sus 
pected  to  be  a  grand  and  inimitable  exploit.  Yet 
there  stands  that  fact  unrepeated,  a  high-water-mark 
in  military  history.  Many  have  attempted  it  since, 
and  not  been  equal  to  it.  It  is  only  on  reality,  that 
any  power  of  action  can  be  based.  No  institution 
will  be  better  than  the  institutor.  I  knew  an  amiable 
and  accomplished  person  who  undertook  a  practical 
reform,  yet  I  was  never  able  to  find  in  him  the  enter 
prise  of  love  he  took  in  hand.  He  adopted  it  by  ear 
and  by  the  understanding  from  the  books  he  had 
been  reading.  All  his  action  was  tentative,  a  piece 
of  the  city  carried  out  into  the  fields,  and  was  the  city 
still,  and  no  new  fact,  and  could  not  inspire  enthu 
siasm.  Had  there  been  something  latent  in  the  man, 
a  terrible  undemonstrated  genius  agitating  and  em 
barrassing  his  demeanor,  we  had  watched  for  its 
advent.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  intellect  should 
see  the  evils,  and  their  remedy.  We  shall  still  post 
pone  our  existence,  nor  take  the  ground  to  which  we 
are  entitled,  whilst  it  is  only  a  thought  and  not  a 
spirit  that  incites  us.  We  have  not  yet  served  up 
to  it. 

These  are  properties  of  life,  and  another  trait  is 
the  notice  of  incessant  growth.  Men  should  be  in 
telligent  and  earnest.  They  must  also  make  us  feel, 
that  they  have  a  controlling  happy  future,  opening 
before  them,  which  sheds  a  splendor  on  the  passing 


CHARACTER.  77 

hour.  The  hero  is  misconceived  and  misi  eported : 
he  cannot  therefore  wait  to  unravel  any  man's  blun 
ders  :  he  is  again  on  his  road,  adding  new  powers 
and  honors  to  his  domain,  and  new  claims  on  your 
heart,  which  will  bankrupt  you,  if  you  have  loitered 
about  the  old  things,  and  have  not  kept  your  relation 
to  him,  by  adding  to  your  wealth.  New  actions  are 
the  only  apologies  and  explanations  of  old  ones,  which 
the  noble  can  bear  to  offer  or  to  receive.  If  your 
friend  has  displeased  you,  you  shall  not  sit  down  to 
consider  it,  for  he  has  already  lost  all  memory  of  the 
passage,  and  has  doubled  his  power  to  serve  you, 
and,  ere  you  can  rise  up  again,  will  burden  you  with 
blessings. 

We  have  no  pleasure  in  thinking  of  a  benevolence 
that  is  only  measured  by  its  works.  Love  is  inex 
haustible,  and  if  its  estate  is  wasted,  its  granary 
emptied,  still  cheers  and  enriches,  and  the  man, 
though  he  sleep,  seems  to  purify  the  air,  and  his 
house  to  adorn  the  landscape  and  strengthen  the 
laws.  People  always  recognize  this  difference. 
We  know  who  is  benevolent,  by  quite  other  means 
than  the  amount  of  subscription  to  soup-societies. 
It  is  only  low  merits  that  can  be  enumerated.  Fear, 
when  your  friends  say  to  you  what  you  have  done 
well,  and  say  it  through ;  but  when  they  stand  with 
uncertain  timid  looks  of  respect  and  half-dislike, 
and  must  suspend  their  judgment  for  years  to  come, 
you  may  begin  to  hope.  Those  who  live  to  the 
future  must  always  appear  selfish  to  those  who  live 
to  the  present.  Therefore  it  was  droll  in  the  good 
Riemer,  who  has  written  memoirs  of  Goethe,  to 


78  CHARACTER. 

make  out  a  list  of  his  donations  and  good  deeds,  as, 
so  many  hundred  thalers  given  to  Stilling,  to  Hegel, 
to  Tischbein :  a  lucrative  place  found  for  Professor 
Voss,  a  post  under  the  Grand  Duke  for  Herder,  a 
pension  for  Meyer,  two  professors  recommended  to 
foreign  universities,  &c.,  &c.  The  longest  list  of 
specifications  of  benefit,  would  look  very  short.  A 
man  is  a  poor  creature,  if  he  is  to  be  measured  so. 
For,  all  these,  of  course,  are  exceptions ;  and  the 
rule  and  hodiernal  life  of  a  good  man  is  benefaction. 
The  true  charity  of  Goethe  is  to  be  inferred  from  the 
account  he  gave  Dr.  Eckermann,  of  the  way  in  which 
he  had  spent  his  fortune.  "  Each  bon-mot  of  mine 
has  cost  a  purse  of  gold.  Half  a  million  of -my  own 
money,  the  fortune  I  inherited,  my  salary,  and  the 
large  income  derived  from  my  writings  for  fifty  years 
back,  have  been  expended  to  instruct  me  in  what  I 
now  know.  I  have  besides  seen,1'  £c. 

I  own  it  is  but  poor  chat  and  gossip  to  go  to 
enumerate  traits  of  this  simple  and  rapid  power, 
and  we  are  painting  the  lightning  with  charcoal ;  but 
in  these  long  nights  and  vacations,  I  like  to  console 
myself  so.  Nothing  but  itself  can  copy  it.  A  word 
warm  from  the  heart  enriches  me.  I  surrender  at 
discretion.  How  death-cold  is  literary  genius  before 
this  fire  of  life  !  These  are  the  touches  that  reanimate 
my  heavy  soul,  and  give  it  eyes  to  pierce  the  dark  of 
nature.  I  find,  where  I  thought  myself  poor,  there 
was  I  most  rich.  Thence  comes  a  new  intellectual 
exaltation,  to  be  again  rebuked  by  some  new  exhi 
bition  of  character.  Strange  alternation  of  attraction 
and  repulsion!  Character  repudiates  intellect,  yet 


CHARACTER.  79 

excites  it ;  and  character  passes  into  thought,  is  pub 
lished  so,  and  then  is  ashamed  before  new  flashes  of 
moral  worth. 

Character  is  nature  in  the  highest  form.  It  is  of 
no  use  to  ape  it,  or  to  contend  with  it.  Somewhat 
is  possible  of  resistance,  and  of  persistence,  and  of 
creation,  to  this  power,  which  will  foil  all  emulation. 

This  masterpiece  is  best  where  no  hands  but  nat 
ure's  have  been  laid  on  it.  Care  is  taken  that  the 
greatly-destined  shall  slip  up  into  life  in  the  shade, 
with  no  thousand-eyed  Athens  to  watch  and  blazon 
every  new  thought,  every  blushing  emotion  of  young 
genius.  Two  persons  lately,  —  very  young  children 
of  the  most  high  God,  —  have  given  me  occasion  for 
thought.  When  I  explored  the  source  of  their  sanc 
tity,  and  charm  for  the  imagination,  it  seemed  as  if 
each  answered,  "From  my  non-conformity :  I  never 
listened  to  your  people's  law,  or  to  what  they  call 
their  gospel,  and  wasted  my  time.  I  was  content 
with  the  simple  rural  poverty  of  my  own ;  hence  this 
sweetness :  my  work  never  reminds  you  of  that ;  — 
is  pure  of  that."  And  nature  advertises  me  in  such 
persons,  that,  in  democratic  America,  she  will  not  be 
democratized.  How  cloistered  and  constitutionally 
sequestered  from  the  market  and  from  scandal!  It 
was  only  this  morning,  that  I  sent  away  some  wild 
flowers  of  these  wood-gods.  They  are  a  relief  from 
literature,  —  these  fresh  draughts  from  the  sources 
of  thought  and  sentiment ;  as  we  read,  in  an  age  of 
polish  and  criticism,  the  first  lines  of  written  prose 
and  verse  of  a  nation.  How  captivating  is  their  de 
votion  to  their  favorite  books,  whether  ^schylus, 


8o  CHARACTER. 

Dante,  Shakspeare,  or  Scott,  as  feeling  that  they 
have  a  stake  in  that  book  :  who  touches  that,  touches 
them  ;  —  and  especially  the  total  solitude  of  the  critic, 
the  Patmos  of  thought  from  which  he  writes,  in  un 
consciousness  of  any  eyes  that  shall  ever  read  this 
writing.  Could  they  dream  on  still,  as  angels,  and 
not  wake  to  comparisons,  and  to  be  flattered  !  Yet 
some  natures  are  too  good  to  be  spoiled  by  praise, 
and  wherever  the  vein  of  thought  reaches  down  into 
the  profound,  there  is  no  danger  from  vanity.  Solemn 
friends  will  warn  them  of  the  danger  of  the  head's 
being  turned  by  the  flourish  of  trumpets,  but  they 
can  afford  to  smile.  I  remember  the  indignation  of 
an  eloquent  Methodist  at  the  kind  admonitions  of  a 
Doctor  of  Divinity,  —  "  My  friend,  a  man  can  neither 
be  praised  nor  insulted."  But  forgive  the  counsels  ; 
they  are  very  natural.  I  remember  the  thought  which 
occurred  to  me  when  some  ingenious  and  spiritual 
foreigners  came  to  America,  was,  Have  you  been  vic 
timized  in  being  brought  hither?  —  or,  prior  to  that, 
answer  me  this,  "  Are  you  victimizable  ? " 

As  I  have  said,  nature  keeps  these  sovereignties 
in  her  own  hands,  and  however  pertly  our  sermons 
and  disciplines  would  divide  some  share  of  credit, 
and  teach  that  the  laws  fashion  the  citizen,  she  goes 
her  own  gait,  and  puts  the  wisest  in  the  wrong.  She 
makes  very  light  of  gospels  and  prophets,  as  one  who 
has  a  great  many  more  to  produce,  and  no  excess  of 
time  to  spare  on  any  one.  There  is  a  class  of  men, 
individuals  of  which  appear  at  long  intervals,  so  emi 
nently  endowed  with  insight  and  virtue,  that  they 
have  been  unanimously  saluted  as  divine,  and  who 


CHARACTER.  81 

seem  to  be  an  accumulation  of  that  power  we  con 
sider.  Divine  persons  are  character  born,  or,  to 
borrow  a  phrase  from  Napoleon,  they  are  victory 
organized.  They  are  usually  received  with  ill-will, 
because  they  are  new,  and  because  they  set  a  bound 
to  the  exaggeration  that  has  been  made  of  the  per 
sonality  of  the  last  divine  person.  Nature  never 
rhymes  her  children,  nor  makes  two  men  alike. 
When  we  see  a  great  man,  we  fancy  a  resemblance 
to  some  historical  person,  and  predict  the  sequel  of 
his  character  and  fortune,  a  result  which  he  is  sure 
to  disappoint.  None  will  ever  solve  the  problem  of 
his  character  according  to  our  prejudice,  but  only  in 
his  own  high  unprecedented  way.  Character  wants 
room ;  must  not  be  crowded  on  by  persons,  nor  be 
judged  from  glimpses  got  in  the  press  of  affairs  or 
on  few  occasions.  It  needs  perspective,  as  a  great 
building.  It  may  not,  probably  does  not,  form  rela 
tions  rapidly ;  and  we  should  not  require  rash  expla 
nation,  either  on  the  popular  ethics,  or  on  our  own, 
of  its  action. 

I  look  on  Sculpture  as  history.  I  do  not  think  the 
Apollo  and  the  Jove  impossible  in  flesh  and  blood. 
Every  trait  which  the  artist  recorded  in  stone,  he  had. 
seen  in  life,  and  better  than  his  copy.  We  have  seen 
many  counterfeits,  but  we  are  born  believers  in  great 
men.  How  easily  we  read  in  old  books,  when  men 
were  few,  of  the  smallest  action  of  the  patriarchs. 
We  require  that  a  man  should  be  so  large  and  col 
umnar  in  the  landscape,  that  it  should  deserve  to  be 
recorded,  that  he  arose,  and  girded  up  his  loins,  and 
departed  to  such  a  place.  The  most  credible  pictures 


82  CHARACTER. 

are  those  of  majestic  men  who  prevailed  at  their  en 
trance,  and  convinced  the  senses ;  as  happened  to 
the  eastern  magian  who  was  sent  to  test  the  merits 
of  Zertusht  or  Zoroaster.  When  the  Yunani  sage 
arrived  at  Balkh,  the  Persians  tell  us,  Gushtasp  ap 
pointed  a  day  on  which  the  mobeds  of  every  country 
should  assemble,  and  a  golden  chair  was  placed  for 
the  Yunani  sage.  Then  the  beloved  of  Yezdam,  the 
prophet  Zertusht,  advanced  into  the  midst  of  the 
assembly.  The  Yunani  sage,  on  seeing  that  chief, 
said,  "  This  form  and  this  gait  cannot  lie,  and  noth 
ing  but  truth  can  proceed  from  them."  Plato  said, 
it  was  impossible  not  to  believe  in  the  children  of  the 
gods,  "though  they  should  speak  without  probable 
or  necessary  arguments.1'  I  should  think  myself 
very  unhappy  in  my  associates,  if  I  could  not  credit 
the  best  things  in  history.  "John  Bradshaw,"  says 
Milton,  "appears  like  a  consul,  from  whom  the  fas 
ces  are  not  to  depart  with  the  year ;  so  that  not  on 
the  tribunal  only  but  throughout  his  life,  you  would 
regard  him  as  sitting  in  judgment  upon  kings.1'  I  find 
it  more  credible,  since  it  is  anterior  information,  that 
one  man  should  know  heaven,  as  the  Chinese  say, 
than  that  so  many  men  should  know  the  world. 
"  The  virtuous  prince  confronts  the  gods,  without 
any  misgiving.  He  waits  a  hundred  ages  till  a  sage 
comes,  and  does  not  doubt.  He  who  confronts  the 
gods,  without  any  misgiving,  knows  heaven ;  he  who 
waits  a  hundred  ages  until  a  sage  comes,  without 
doubting,  knows  men.  Hence  the  virtuous  prince 
moves,  and  for  ages  shows  empire  the  way.11  But 
there  is  no  need  to  seek  remote  examples.  He  is  a 


CHARACTER.  83 

dull  observer  whose  experience  has  not  taught  him 
the  reality  and  force  of  magic,  as  well  as  of  chem 
istry.  The  coldest  precisian  cannot  go  abroad  with 
out  encountering  inexplicable  influences.  One  man 
fastens  an  eye  on  him,  and  the  graves  of  the  memory 
render  up  their  dead ;  the  secrets  that  make  him 
wretched  either  to  keep  or  to  betray,  must  be  yielded  ; 
—  another,  and  he  cannot  speak,  and  the  bones  of 
his  body  seem  to  lose  their  cartilage;  the  entrance 
of  a  friend  adds  grace,  boldness,  and  eloquence  to 
him;  and  there  are  persons,  he  cannot  choose  but 
remember,  who  gave  a  transcendant  expansion  to  his 
thought,  and  kindled  another  life  in  his  bosom. 

What  is  so  excellent  as  strict  relations  of  amity, 
when  they  spring  from  this  deep  root?  The  suffi 
cient  reply  to  the  sceptic,  who  doubts  the  power  and 
the  furniture  of  man,  is  in  that  possibility  of  joyful 
intercourse  with  persons,  which  makes  the  faith  and 
practice  of  all  reasonable  men.  I  know  nothing 
which  life  has  to  offer  so  satisfying  as  the  profound 
good  understanding,  which  can  subsist,  after  much 
exchange  of  good  offices,  between  two  virtuous  men, 
each  of  whom  is  sure  of  himself,  and  sure  of  his 
friend.  It  is  a  happiness  which  postpones  all  other 
gratifications,  and  makes  politics,  and  commerce, 
and  churches,  cheap.  For,  when  men  shall  meet  as 
they  ought,  each  a  benefactor,  a  shower  of  stars, 
clothed  with  thoughts,  with  deeds,  with  accomplish 
ments,  it  should  be  the  festival  of  nature  which  all 
things  announce.  Of  such  friendship,  love  in  the 
sexes  is  the  first  symbol,  as  all  other  things  are  sym 
bols  of  love.  Those  relations  to  the  best  men,  which, 


84  CHARACTER. 

at  one  time,  we  reckoned  the  romances  of  youth, 
become,  in  the  progress  of  the  character,  the  most 
solid  enjoyment. 

If  it  were  possible  to  live  in  right  relations  with 
men!  —  if  we  could  abstain  from  asking  anything  of 
them,  from  asking  their  praise,  or  help,  or  pity,  and 
content  us  with  compelling  them  through  the  virtue 
of  the  eldest  laws  !  Could  we  not  deal  with  a  few 
persons,  —  with  one  person,  —  after  the  unwritten 
statutes,  and  make  an  experiment  of  their  efficacy? 
Could  we  not  pay  our  friend  the  compliment  of  truth, 
of  silence,  of  forbearing?  Need  we  be  so  eager  to 
seek  him?  If  we  are  related,  we  shall  meet.  It  was 
a  tradition  of  the  ancient  world,  that  no  metamor 
phosis  could  hide  a  god  from  a  god ;  and  there  is  a 
Greek  verse  which  runs, 

The  Gods  are  to  each  other  not  unknown. 

Friends  also  follow  the  laws  of  divine  necessity; 
they  gravitate  to  each  other,  and  cannot  other 
wise  :  — 

When  each  the  other  shall  avoid 
Shall  each  by  each  be  most  enjoyed. 

Their  relation  is  not  made,  but  allowed.  The  gods 
must  seat  themselves  without  seneschal  in  our  Olym 
pus,  and  as  they  can  install  themselves  by  seniority 
divine.  Society  is  spoiled  if  pains  are  taken,  if  the 
associates  are  brought  a  mile  to  meet.  And  if  it  be 
not  society,  it  is  a  mischievous,  low,  degrading  jan 
gle,  though  made  up  of  the  best.  All  the  greatness 
of  each  is  kept  back,  and  every  foible  in  painful  activ- 


CHARACTER.  85 

ity,  as  if  the  Olympians  should  meet  to  exchange 
snuff-boxes. 

Life  goes  headlong.  We  chase  some  flying 
scheme,  or  we  are  hunted  by  some  fear  or  command 
behind  us.  But  if  suddenly  we  encounter  a  friend 
we  pause ;  our  heat  and  hurry  look  foolish  enough ; 
now  pause,  now  possession,  is  required,  and  the 
power  to  swell  the  moment  from  the  resources  of 
the  heart.  The  moment  is  all,  in  all  noble  relations. 

A  divine  person  is  the  prophecy  of  the  mind ;  a 
friend  is  the  hope  of  the  heart.  Our  beatitude  waits 
for  the  fulfilment  of  these  two  in  one.  The  ages  are 
opening  this  moral  force.  All  force  is  the  shadow  or 
symbol  of  that.  Poetry  is  joyful  and  strong,  as  it 
draws  its  inspiration  thence.  Men  write  their  names 
on  the  world,  as  they  are  filled  with  this.  History 
has  been  mean ;  our  nations  have  been  mobs ;  we 
have  never  seen  a  man :  that  divine  form  we  do  not 
yet  know,  but  only  the  dream  and  prophecy  of  such : 
we  do  not  know  the  majestic  manners  which  belong 
to  him,  which  appease  and  exalt  the  beholder.  We 
shall  one  day  see  that  the  most  private  is  the  most 
public  energy,  that  quality  atones  for  quantity,  and 
grandeur  of  character  acts  in  the  dark,  and  succors 
them  who  never  saw  it.  What  greatness  has  yet 
appeared,  is  beginnings  and  encouragements  to  us  in 
this  direction.  The  history  of  those  gods  and  saints 
which  the  world  has  written,  and  then  worshipped, 
are  documents  of  character.  The  ages  have  exulted 
in  the  manners  of  a  youth  who  owed  nothing  to  for 
tune,  and  who  was  hanged  at  the  Tyburn  of  his 
nation,  who,  by  the  pure  quality  of  his  nature,  shed 


86  CHARACTER. 

an  epic  splendor  around  the  facts  of  his  death,  which 
has  transfigured  every  particular  into  an  universal 
symbol  for  the  eyes  of  mankind.  This  great  defeat 
is  hitherto  our  highest  fact.  But  the  mind  requires 
a  victory  to  the  senses,  a  force  of  character  which  will 
convert  judge,  jury,  soldier,  and  king;  which  will 
rule  animal  and  mineral  virtues,  and  blend  with  the 
courses  of  sap,  of  rivers,  of  winds,  of  stars,  and  of 
moral  agents. 

If  we  cannot  attain  at  a  bound  to  these  grandeurs 
at  least,  let  us  do  them  homage.  In  society,  high 
advantages  are  set  down  to  the  possessor,  as  disad 
vantages.  It  requires  the  more  wariness  in  our 
private  estimates.  I  do  not  forgive  in  my  friends  the 
failure  to  know  a  fine  character,  and  to  entertain  it 
with  thankful  hospitality.  When  at  last,  that  which 
we  have  always  longed  for,  is  arrived,  and  shines  on 
us  with  glad  rays  out  of  that  far  celestial  land,  then 
to  be  coarse,  then  to  be  critical,  and  treat  such  a 
visitant  with  the  jabber  and  suspicion  of  the  streets, 
argues  a  vulgarity  that  seems  to  shut  the  doors  of 
heaven.  This  is  confusion,  this  the  right  insanity, 
when  the  soul  no  longer  knows  its  own,  nor  where 
its  allegiance,  its  religion,  are  due.  Is  there  any 
religion  but  this,  to  know,  that,  wherever  in  the  wide 
desert  of  being,  the  holy  sentiment  we  cherish  has 
opened  into  a  flower,  it  blooms  for  me?  if  none  sees 
it  I  see  it ;  I  am  aware,  if  I  alone,  of  the  greatness 
of  the  fact.  Whilst  it  blooms,  I  will  keep  sabbath 
or  holy  time,  and  suspend  my  gloom,  and  my  folly 
and  jokes.  Nature  is  indulged  by  the  presence  of 
this  guest.  There  are  many  eyes  that  can  detect  and 


CHARACTER.  87 

honor  the  prudent  and  household  virtues ;  there  are 
many  that  can  discern  Genius  on  his  starry  track, 
though  the  mob  is  incapable ;  but  when  that  love 
which  is  all-suffering,  all-abstaining,  all-aspiring, 
which  has  vowed  to  itself,  that  it  will  be  a  wretch 
and  also  a  fool  in  this  world,  sooner  than  soil  its 
white  hands  .by  any  compliances,  comes  into  our 
streets  and  houses,  —  only  the  pure  and  aspiring  can 
know  its  face,  and  the  only  compliment  they  can  pay 
it,  is  to  own  it. 


ESSAY    IV. 

MANNERS. 

How  near  to  good  is  what  is  fair ! 

Which  we  no  sooner  see, 
But  with  the  lines  and  outward  air 

Our  senses  taken  be. 


Again  yourselves  compose, 
And  now  put  all  the  aptness  on 
Of  Figure,  that  Proportion 

Or  Color  can  disclose ; 
That  if  those  silent  arts  were  lost, 
Design  and  Picture,  they  might  boast 

From  you  a  newer  ground, 
Instructed  by  the  heightening  sense 
Of  dignity  and  reverence 

In  their  true  motions  found. 

BEN  JONSON. 

HALF  the  world,  it  is  said,  knows  not  how  the 
other  half  live.  Our  Exploring  Expedition  saw  the 
Feejee  islanders  getting  their  dinner  off  human  bones  ; 
and  they  are  said  to  eat  their  own  wives  and  children. 
The  husbandry  of  the  modern  inhabitants  of  Gournou 
(west  of  old  Thebes)  is  philosophical  to  a  fault.  To 
set  up  their  housekeeping,  nothing  is  requisite  but 
two  or  three  earthen  pots,  a  stone  to  grind  meal,  and 


MANNERS.  89 

a  mat  which  is  the  bed.  The  house,  namely,  a  tomb, 
is  ready  without  rent  or  taxes.  No  rain  can  pass 
through  the  roof,  and  there  is  no  door,  for  there  is 
no  want  of  one,  as  there  is  nothing  to  lose.  If  the 
house  do  not  please  them,  they  walk  out  and  enter 
another,  as  there  are  several  hundreds  at  their  com 
mand.  "  It  is  somewhat  singular,"  adds  Belzoni,  to 
whom  we  owe  this  account,  "  to  talk  of  happiness 
among  people  who  live  in  sepulchres,  among  the 
corpses  and  rags  of  an  ancient  nation  which  they 
know  nothing  of."  In  the  deserts  of  Borgoo,  the 
rock-Tibboos  still  dwell  in  caves,  like  cliif-s wallows, 
and  the  language  of  these  negroes  is  compared  by 
their  neighbors  to  the  shrieking  of  bats,  and  to  the 
whistling  of  birds.  Again,  the  Bornoos  have  no  prop 
er  names;  individuals  are  called  after  their  height, 
thickness,  or  other  accidental  quality,  and  have  nick 
names  merely.  But  the  salt,  the  dates,  the  ivory, 
and  the  gold,  for  which  these  horrible  regions  are 
visited,  find  their  way  into  countries,  where  the  pur 
chaser  and  consumer  can  hardly  be  ranked  in  one 
race  with  these  cannibals  and  man-stealers  ;  countries 
where  man  serves  himself  with  metals,  wood,  stone, 
glass,  gum,  cotton,  silk,  and  wool ;  honors  himself 
with  architecture ;  writes  laws,  and  contrives  to  exe 
cute  his  will  through  the  hands  of  many  nations ; 
and,  especially,  establishes  a  select  society,  running 
through  all  the  countries  of  intelligent  men,  a  self-con 
stituted  aristocracy,  or  fraternity  of  the  best,  which, 
without  written  law  or  exact  usage  of  any  kind,  per 
petuates  itself,  colonizes  every  new-planted  island, 
and  adopts  and  makes  its  own  whatever  persona] 


9°  MANNERS. 

beauty  or  extraordinary  native  endowment  anywhere 
appears. 

What  fact  more  conspicuous  in  modern  history, 
than  the  creation  of  the  gentleman?  Chivalry  is 
that,  and  loyalty  is  that,  and,  in  English  literature, 
half  the  drama,  and  all  the  novels,  from  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  paint  this  figure.  The 
word  gentleman,  which,  like  the  word  Christian,  must 
hereafter  characterize  the  present  and  the  few  preced 
ing  centuries,  by  the  importance  attached  to  it,  is  a 
homage  to  personal  and  incommunicable  properties. 
Frivolous  and  fantastic  additions  have  got  associated 
with  the  name,  but  the  steady  interest  of  mankind  in 
it  must  be  attributed  to  the  valuable  properties  which 
it  designates.  An  element  which  unites  all  the  most 
forcible  persons  of  every  country ;  makes  them  intel 
ligible  and  agreeable  to  each  other,  and  is  somewhat 
so  precise,  that  it  is  at  once  felt  if  an  individual  lack 
the  masonic  sign,  cannot  be  any  casual  product,  but 
must  be  an  average  result  of  the  character  and  facul 
ties  universally  found  in  men.  It  seems  a  certain 
permanent  average ;  as  the  atmosphere  is  a  per 
manent  composition,  whilst  so  many  gases  are  com 
bined  only  to  be  decompounded.  Comme  il  faut, 
is  the  Frenchman's  description  of  good  society,  as 
ive  must  be.  It  is  a  spontaneous  fruit  of  talents  and 
feelings  of  precisely  that  class  who  have  most  vigor, 
who  take  the  lead  in  the  world  of  this  hour,  arid, 
though  far  from  pure,  far  from  constituting  the  glad 
dest  and  highest  tone  of  human  feeling,  is  as  good 
as  the  whole  society  permits  it  to  be.  It  is  made  of 
the  spirit,  more  than  of  the  talent  of  men,  and  is  a 


MANNERS.  91 

compound  result,  into  which  every  great  force  enters 
as  an  ingredient,  namely,  virtue,  wit,  beauty,  wealth, 
and  power. 

There  is  something  equivocal  in  all  the  words  in 
use  to  express  the  excellence  of  manners  and  social 
cultivation,  because  the  quantities  are  fluctional,  and 
the  last  effect  is  assumed  by  the  senses  as  the  cause. 
The  word  gentleman  has  not  any  correlative  abstract 
to  express  the  quality.  Gentility  is  mean,  and  gen 
tiles  se  is  obsolete.  But  we  must  keep  alive  in  the 
vernacular,  the  distinction  bet  ween  fashion,  a  word  of 
narrow  and  often  sinister  meaning,  and  the  heroic 
character  which  the  gentleman  imports.  The  usual 
words,  however,  must  be  respected :  they  will  be 
found  to  contain  the  root  of  the  matter.  The  point 
of  distinction  in  all  this  class  of  names,  as  courtesy, 
chivalry,  fashion,  and  the  like,  is,  that  the  flower  and 
fruit,  not  the  grain  of  the  tree,  are  contemplated. 
It  is  beauty  which  is  the  aim  this  time,  and  not 
worth.  The  result  is  now  in  question,  although  our 
words  intimate  well  enough  the  popular  feeling,  that 
the  appearance  supposes  a  substance.  The  gentle 
man  is  a  man  of  truth,  lord  of  his  own  actions,  and 
expressing  that  lordship  in  his  behavior,  not  in  any 
manner  dependent  and  servile  either  on  persons,  or 
opinions,  or  possessions.  Beyond  this  fact  of  truth 
and  real  force,  the  word  denotes  good-nature  or 
benevolence ;  manhood  first,  and  then  gentleness. 
The  popular  notion  certainly  adds  a  condition  of 
ease  and  fortune ;  but  that  is  a  natural  result  of  per 
sonal  force  and  love,  that  they  should  possess  and 
dispense  the  goods  of  the  world.  In  times  of  vio- 


92  MANNERS. 

lence,  every  eminent  person  must  fall  in  with  many 
opportunities  to  approve  his  stoutness  and  worth ; 
therefore  every  man's  name  that  emerged  at  all  from 
the  mass  in  the  feudal  ages,  rattles  in  our  ear  like  a 
flourish  of  trumpets.  But  personal  force  never  goes 
out  of  fashion.  That  is  still  paramount  to-day,  and, 
in  the  moving  crowd  of  good  society,  the  men  of 
valor  and  reality  are  known,  and  rise  to  their  natural 
place.  The  competition  is  transferred  from  war  to 
politics  and  trade,  but  the  personal  force  appears 
readily  enough  in  these  new  arenas. 

Power  first,  or  no  leading  class.  In  politics  and 
in  trade,  bruisers  and  pirates  are  of  better  promise 
than  talkers  and  clerks.  God  knows  that  all  sorts  of 
gentlemen  knock  at  the  door ;  but  whenever  used  in 
strictness,  and  with  any  emphasis,  the  name  will  be 
found  to  point  at  original  energy.  It  describes  a  man 
standing  in  his  own  right,  and  working  after  untaught 
methods.  In  a  good  lord,  there  must  first  be  a  good 
animal,  at  least  to  the  extent  of  yielding  the  incom 
parable  advantage  of  animal  spirits.  The  ruling  class 
must  have  more,  but  they  must  have  these,  giving 
in  every  company  the  sense  of  power,  which  makes 
things  easy  to  be  done  which  daunt  the  wise.  The 
society  of  the  energetic  class,  in  their  friendly  and 
festive  meetings,  is  full  of  courage,  and  attempts, 
which  intimidate  the  pale  scholar.  The  courage 
which  girls  exhibit  is  like  a  battle  of  Lundy's  Lane, 
or  a  sea  fight.  The  intellect  relies  on  memory  to 
make  some  supplies  to  face  these  extemporaneous 
squadrons.  But  memory  is  a  base  mendicant  with 
basket  and  badge,  in  the  presence  of  these  sudden 


MANNERS.  93 

masters.  The  rulers  of  society  must  be  up  to  the 
work  of  the  world,  and  equal  to  their  versatile  office : 
men  of  the  right  Caesarian  pattern,  who  have  great 
range  of  affinity.  I  am  far  from  believing  the  timid 
maxim  of  Lord  Falkland,  ("  that  for  ceremony  there 
must  go  two  to  it ;  since  a  bold  fellow  will  go  through 
the  cunningest  forms,")  and  am  of  opinion  that  the 
gentleman  is  the  bold  fellow  whose  forms  are  not  to 
be  broken  through ;  and  only  that  plenteous  nature 
is  rightful  master,  which  is  the  complement  of  what 
ever  person  it  converses  with.  My  gentleman  gives 
the  law  where  he  is ;  he  will  outpray  saints  in  chapel, 
outgeneral  veterans  in  the  field,  and  outshine  all 
courtesy  in  the  hall.  He  is  good  company  for  pirates, 
and  good  with  academicians ;  so  that  it  is  useless 
to  fortify  yourself  against  him ;  he  has  the  private 
entrance  to  all  minds,  and  I  could  as  easily  exclude 
myself,  as  him.  The  famous  gentlemen  of  Asia  and 
Europe  have  been  of  this  strong  type;  Saladin, 
Sapor,  the  Cid,  Julius  Caesar,  Scipio,  Alexander, 
Pericles,  and  the  lordliest  personages.  They  sat 
very  carelessly  in  their  chairs,  and  were  too  excellent 
themselves  to  value  any  condition  at  a  high  rate. 

A  plentiful  fortune  is  reckoned  necessary,  in  the 
popular  judgment,  to  the  completion  of  this  man  of 
the  world :  and  it  is  a  material  deputy  which  walks 
through  the  dance  which  the  first  has  led.  Money 
is  not  essential,  but  this  wide  affinity  is,  which  tran 
scends  the  habits  of  clique  and  caste,  and  makes 
itself  felt  by  men  of  all  classes.  If  the  aristocrat 
is  only  valid  in  fashionable  circles,  and  not  with 
truckmen,  he  will  never  be  a  leader  in  fashion ;  and 


94  MANNERS. 

if  the  man  of  the  people  cannot  speak  on  equal  terms 
with  the  gentleman,  so  that  the  gentleman  shall  per 
ceive  that  he  is  already  really  of  his  own  order,  he  is  not 
to  be  feared.  Diogenes,  Socrates,  and  Epaminondas, 
are  gentlemen  of  the  best  blood,  who  have  chosen  the 
condition  of  poverty,  when  that  of  wealth  was  equally 
open  to  them.  I  use  these  old  names,  but  the  men  I 
speak  of  are  my  contemporaries.  Fortune  will  not 
supply  to  every  generation  one  of  these  well-appointed 
knights,  but  every  collection  of  men  furnishes  some 
example  of  the  class  :  and  the  politics  of  this  country, 
and  the  trade  of  every  town,  are  controlled  by  these 
hardy  and  irresponsible  doers,  who  have  invention 
to  take  the  lead,  and  a  broad  sympathy  which  puts 
them  in  fellowship  with  crowds,  and  makes  their 
action  popular. 

The  manners  of  this  class  are  observed  and  caught 
with  devotion  by  men  of  taste.  The  association  of 
these  masters  with  each  other,  and  with  men  intelli 
gent  of  their  merits,  is  mutually  agreeable  and  stim 
ulating.  The  good  forms,  the  happiest  expressions  of 
each,  are  repeated  and  adopted.  By  swift  consent, 
everything  superfluous  is  dropped,  everything  graceful 
is  renewed.  Fine  manners  show  themselves  formi- 
dab'e  to  the  uncultivated  man.  They  are  a  subtler 
science  of  defence  to  parry  and  intimidate  ;  but  once 
matched  by  the  skill  of  the  other  party,  they  drop 
the  point  of  the  sword,  —  points  and  fences  disappear, 
and  the  youth  finds  himself  in  a  more  transparent 
atmosphere,  wherein  life  is  a  less  troublesome  game, 
and  not  a  misunderstanding  rises  between  the  players. 
Manners  aim  to  facilitate  life,  to  get  rid  of  impedi- 


MANNERS.  95 

ments,  and  bring  the  man  pure  to  energize.  They 
aid  our  dealing  and  conversation,  as  a  railway  aids 
travelling,  by  getting  rid  of  all  avoidable  obstructions 
of  the  road,  and  leaving  nothing  to  be  conquered  but 
pure  space.  These  forms  very  soon  become  fixed, 
and  a  fine  sense  of  propriety  is  cultivated  with  the 
more  heed,  that  it  becomes  a  badge  of  social  and  civil 
distinction.  Thus  grows  up  Fashion,  an  equivocal 
semblance,  the  most  puissant,  the  most  fantastic  and 
frivolous,  the  most  feared  and  followed,  and  which 
morals  and  violence  assault  in  vain. 

There  exists  a  strict  relation  between  the  class  of 
power,  and  the  exclusive  and  polished  circles.  The 
last  are  always  filled  or  filling  from  the  first.  The 
strong  men  usually  give  some  allowance  even  to 
the  petulances  of  fashion,  for  that  affinity  they  find  in 
it.  Napoleon,  child  of  the  revolution,  destroyer  of 
the  old  noblesse,  never  ceased  to  court  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain :  doubtless  with  the  feeling,  that  fashion 
is  a  homage  to  men  of  his  stamp.  Fashion,  though 
in  a  strange  way,  represents  all  manly  virtue.  It  is 
virtue  gone  to  seed :  it  is  a  kind  of  posthumous 
honor.  It  does  not  often  caress  the  great,  but  the 
children  of  the  great:  it  is  a  hall  of  the  Past.  It 
usually  sets  its  face  against  the  great  of  this  hour. 
Great  men  are  not  commonly  in  its  halls :  they  are 
absent  in  the  field :  they  are  working,  not  triumph 
ing.  Fashion  is  made  up  of  their  children  ;  of  those, 
who,  through  the  value  and  virtue  of  somebody, 
have  acquired  lustre  to  their  name,  marks  of  distinc 
tion,  means  of  cultivation  and  generosity,  and,  in 
their  physical  organization,  a  certain  health  and  ex- 


96  MANNERS. 

cellence,  which  secures  to  them,  if  not  the  highest 
power  to  work,  yet  high  power  to  enjoy.  The  class 
of  power,  the  working  heroes,  the  Cortez,  the  Nel 
son,  the  Napoleon,  see  that  this  is  the  festivity  and 
permanent  celebration  of  such  as  they ;  that  fashion 
is  funded  talent ;  is  Mexico,  Marengo,  and  Trafalgar 
beaten  out  thin ;  that  the  brilliant  names  of  fashion 
run  back  to  just  such  busy  names  as  their  own,  fifty 
or  sixty  years  ago.  They  are  the  sowers,  their  sons 
shall  be  the  reapers,  and  their  sons,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things,  must  yield  the  possession  of  the 
harvest  to  new  competitors  with  keener  eyes  and 
stronger  frames.  The  city  is  recruited  from  the 
country.  In  the  year  1805,  it  is  said,  every  legiti 
mate  monarch  in  Europe  was  imbecile.  The  city 
would  have  died  out,  rotted,  and  exploded  long  ago, 
but  that  it  was  reinforced  from  the  fields.  It  is  only 
country  which  came  to  town  day  before  yesterday, 
that  is  city  and  court  to-day. 

Aristocracy  and  fashion  are  certain  inevitable  re 
sults.  These  mutual  selections  are  indestructible. 
If  they  provoke  anger  in  the  least  favored  class,  and 
the  excluded  majority  revenge  themselves  on  the  ex 
cluding  minority,  by  the  strong  hand,  and  kill  them, 
at  once  a  new  class  finds  itself  at  the  top,  as  certainly 
as  cream  rises  in  a  bowl  of  milk :  and  if  the  people 
should  destroy  class  after  class,  until  two  men  only 
were  left,  one  of  these  would  be  the  leader,  and 
would  be  involuntarily  served  and  copied  by  the 
other.  You  may  keep  this  minority  out  of  sight  and 
out  of  mind,  but  it  is  tenacious  of  life,  and  is  one  of 
the  estates  of  the  realm.  I  am  the  more  struck  with 


MANNERS.  97 

this  tenacity,  when  I  see  its  work.  It  respects  the 
administration  of  such  unimportant  matters,  that  we 
should  not  look  for  any  durability  in  its  rule.  We 
sometimes  meet  men  under  some  strong  moral  influ 
ence,  as,  a  patriotic,  a  literary,  a  religious  movement, 
and  feel  that  the  moral  sentiment  rules  man  and  na 
ture.  We  think  all  other  distinctions  and  ties  will 
be  slight  and  fugitive,  this  of  caste  or  fashion,  for 
example ;  yet  come  from  year  to  year,  and  see  how 
permanent  that  is,  in  this  Boston  or  New  York  life 
of  man,  where,  too,  it  has  not  the  least  countenance 
from  the  law  of  the  land.  Not  in  Egypt  or  in  India 
a  firmer  or  more  impassable  line.  Here  are  associa 
tions  whose  ties  go  over,  and  under,  and  through  it, 
a  meeting  of  merchants,  a  military  corps,  a  college- 
class,  a  fire-club,  a  professional  association,  a  politi 
cal,  a  religious  convention  ;  —  the  persons  seem  to 
draw  inseparably  near ;  yet,  that  assembly  once  dis 
persed,  its  members  will  not  in  the  year  meet  again. 
Each  returns  to  his  degree  in  the  scale  of  good  soci 
ety,  porcelain  remains  porcelain,  and  earthen  earthen. 
The  objects  of  fashion  may  be  frivolous,  or  fashion 
may  be  objectless,  but  the  nature  of  this  union  and 
selection  can  be  neither  frivolous  nor  accidental. 
Each  man's  rank  in  that  perfect  graduation  depends  on 
some  symmetry  in  his  structure,  or  some  agreement 
in  his  structure  to  the  symmetry  of  society.  Its  doors 
unbar  instantaneously  to  a  natural  claim  of  their  own 
kind.  A  natural  gentleman  finds  his  way  in,  and 
will  keep  the  oldest  patrician  out,  who  has  lost  his 
intrinsic  rank.  Fashion  understands  itself;  good- 
breeding  and  personal  superiority  of  whatever  coun- 


98  MANNERS. 

try  readily  fraternize  with  those  of  every  other.  The 
chiefs  of  savage  tribes  have  distinguished  themselves 
in  London  and  Paris,  by  the  purity  of  their  tournure. 
To  say  what  good  of  fashion  we  can,  —  it  rests  on 
reality,  and  hates  nothing  so  much  as  pretenders ;  — 
to  exclude  and  mystify  pretenders,  and  send  them 
into  everlasting  "  Coventry,"  is  its  delight.  We  con 
temn,  in  turn,  every  other  gift  of  men  of  the  world  ; 
but  the  habit  even  in  little  and  the  least  matters,  of 
not  appealing  to  any  but  our  own  sense  of  propriety, 
constitutes  the  foundation  of  all  chivalry.  There  is 
almost  no  kind  of  self-reliance,  so  it  be  sane  and 
proportioned,  which  fashion  does  not  occasionally 
adopt,  and  give  it  the  freedom  of  its  saloons.  A 
sainted  soul  is  always  elegant,  and,  if  it  will,  passes 
unchallenged  into  the  most  guarded  ring.  But  so 
will  Jock  the  teamster  pass,  in  .some  crisis  that  brings 
him  thither,  and  find  favor,  as  long  as  his  head  is  not 
giddy  with  the  new  circumstance,  and  the  iron  shoes 
do  not  wish  to  dance  in  waltzes  and  cotillons.  For 
there  is  nothing  settled  in  manners,  but  the  laws  of 
behavior  yield  to  the  energy  of  the  individual.  The 
maiden  at  her  first  ball,  the  countryman  at  a  city  din 
ner,  believes  that  there  is  a  ritual  according  to  which 
every  act  and  compliment  must  be  performed,  or  the 
failing  party  must  be  cast  out  of  this  presence. 
Later,  they  learn  that  good  sense  and  character  make 
their  own  forms  every  moment,  and  speak  or  abstain, 
take  wine  or  refuse  it,  stay  or  go,  sit  in  a  chair  or 
sprawl  with  children  on  the  floor,  or  stand  on  their 
head,  or  what  else  soever,  in  a  new  and  aboriginal 
way  :  and  that  strong  will  is  always  in  fashion,  let  who 


MANNERS.  99 

will  be  unfashionable.  All  that  fashion  demands  is 
composure,  and  self-content.  A  circle  of  men  per 
fectly  well-bred  would  be  a  company  of  sensible 
persons,  in  which  every  man's  native  manners  and 
character  appeared.  If  the  fashionist  have  not  this 
quality,  he  is  nothing.  We  are  such  lovers  of  self- 
reliance,  that  we  excuse  in  a  man  many  sins,  if  he 
will  show  us  a  complete  satisfaction  in  his  position, 
which  asks  no  leave  to  be,  of  mine,  or  any  man's 
good  opinion.  But  any  deference  to  some  eminent 
man  or  woman  of  the  world,  forfeits  all  privilege  of 
nobility.  He  is  an  underling :  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  him ;  I  will  speak  with  his  master.  A  man 
should  not  go  where  he  cannot  carry  his  whole  sphere 
or  society  with  him,  —  not  bodily,  the  whole  circle  of 
his  friends,  but  atmospherically.  He  should  preserve 
in  a  new  company  the  same  attitude  of  mind  and 
reality  of  relation,  which  his  daily  associates  draw 
him  to,  else  he  is  shorn  of  his  best  beams,  and  will 
be  an  orphan  in  the  merriest  club.  "If  you  could 

see  Vich  Ian  Vohr  with  his  tail  on  ! "     But  Vich 

Ian  Vohr  must  always  carry  his  belongings  in  some 
fashion,  if  not  added  as  honor,  then  severed  as 
disgrace. 

There  will  always  be  in  society  certain  persons 
who  are  mercuries  of  its  approbation,  and  whose 
glance  will  at  any  time  determine  for  the  curious 
their  standing  in  the  world.  These  are  the  chamber 
lains  of  the  lesser  gods.  Accept  their  coldness  as 
an  omen  of  grace  with  the  loftier  deities,  and  allow 
them  all  their  privilege.  They  are  clear  in  their 
office,  nor  could  they  be  thus  formidable,  without 


100  MANNERS. 

their  own  merits.  But  do  not  measure  the  impor 
tance  of  this  class  by  their  pretension,  or  imagine 
that  a  fop  can  be  the  dispenser  of  honor  and  shame. 
They  pass  also  at  their  just  rate ;  for  how  can  they 
otherwise,  in  circles  which  exist  as  a  sort  of  herald's 
office  for  the  sifting  of  character? 

As  the  first  thing  man  requires  of  man,  is  reality, 
so,  that  appears  in  all  the  forms  of  society.  We 
pointedly,  and  by  name,  introduce  the  parties  to 
each  other.  Know  you  before  all  heaven  and  earth, 
that  this  is  Andrew,  and  this  is  Gregory ;  —  they 
look  each  other  in  the  eye ;  they  grasp  each  other's 
hand,  to  identify  and  signalize  each  other.  It  is  a 
great  satisfaction.  A  gentleman  never  dodges :  his 
eyes  look  straight  forward,  and  he  assures  the  other 
party,  first  of  all,  that  he  has  been  met.  For  what 
is  it  that  we  seek,  in  so  many  visits  and  hospitalities? 
Is  it  your  draperies,  pictures,  and  decorations?  Or, 
do  we  not  insatiably  ask,  Was  a  man  in  the  house? 
I  may  easily  go  into  a  great  household  where  there 
is  much  substance,  excellent  provision  for  comfort, 
luxury,  and  taste,  and  yet  not  encounter  there  any 
Amphitryon,  who  shall  subordinate  these  appendages. 
I  may  go  into  a  cottage,  and  find  a  farmer  who  feels 
that  he  is  the  man  I  have  come  to  see,  and  fronts  me 
accordingly.  It  was  therefore  a  very  natural  point  of 
old  feudal  etiquette,  that  a  gentleman  who  received  a 
visit,  though  it  were  of  his  sovereign,  should  not 
leave  his  roof,  but  should  wait  his  arrival  at  the  door 
of  his  house.  No  house,  though  it  were  the  Tui- 
leries,  or  the  Escurial,  is  good  for  anything  without  a 
master.  And  yet  we  are  not  often  gratified  by  this 


MANNERS.  101 

hospitality.  Every  body  we  know  surrounds  himself 
with  a  fine  house,  fine  books,  conversatory,  gardens, 
equipage,  and  all  manner  of  toys,  as  screens  to  inter 
pose  between  himself  and  his  guest.  Does  it  not 
seem  as  if  man  was  of  a  very  sly,  elusive  nature,  and 
dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  a  full  rencontre  front  to 
front  with  his  fellow?  It  were  unmerciful,  I  know, 
quite  to  abolish  the  use  of  these  screens,  which  are 
of  eminent  convenience,  whether  the  guest  is  too 
great,  or  too  little.  We  call  together  many  friends 
who  keep  each  other  in  play,  or,  by  luxuries  and  or 
naments  we  amuse  the  young  people,  and  guard  our 
retirement.  Or  if,  perchance,  a  searching  realist 
comes  to  our  gate,  before  whose  eye  we  have  no  care 
to  stand,  then  again  we  run  to  our  curtain,  and  hide 
ourselves  as  Adam  at  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  in 
the  garden.  Cardinal  Caprara,  the  Pope's  legate  at 
Paris,  defended  himself  from  the  glances  of  Napo 
leon,  by  an  immense  pair  of  green  spectacles.  Na 
poleon  remarked  them,  and  speedily  managed  to  rally 
them  off:  and  yet  Napoleon,  in  his  turn,  was  not 
great  enough  with  eight  hundred  thousand  troops  at 
his  back,  to  face  a  pair  of  freeborn  eyes,  but  fenced 
himself  with  etiquette,  and  within  triple  barriers  of 
reserve  :  and,  as  all  the  world  knows  from  Madame 
de  Stae'l,  was  wont,  when  he  found  himself  observed, 
to  discharge  his  face  of  all  expression.  But  emperors 
and  rich  men  are  by  no  means  the  most  skilful  mas 
ters  of  good  manners.  No  rent-roll  nor  army-list 
can  dignify  skulking  and  dissimulation  :  and  the  first 
point  of  courtesy  must  always  be  truth,  as  really  all 
the  forms  of  good-breeding  point  that  way. 


102  MANNERS. 

I  have  just  been  reading,  in  Mr.  Hazlitfs  transla 
tion,  Montaigne's  account  of  his  journey  into  Italy, 
and  am  struck  with  nothing  more  agreeably  than  the 
self-respecting  fashions  of  the  time.  His  arrival  in 
each  place,  the  arrival  of  a  gentleman  of  F ranee,  is 
an  event  of  some  consequence.  Wherever  he  goes, 
he  pays  a  visit  to  whatever  prince  or  gentleman  of 
note  resides  upon  his  road,  as  a  duty  to  himself  and 
to  civilization.  When  he  leaves  any  house  in  which 
he  has  lodged  for  a  few  weeks,  he  causes  his  arms  to 
be  painted  and  hung  up  as  a  perpetual  sign  to  the 
house,  as  was  the  custom  of  gentlemen. 

The  complement  of  this  graceful  self-respect,  and 
that  of  all  the  points  of  good  breeding  I  most  require 
and  insist  upon,  is  deference.  I  like  that  every  chair 
should  be  a  throne,  and  hold  a  king.  I  prefer  a  ten 
dency  to  stateliness,  to  an  excess  of  fellowship.  Let 
the  incommunicable  objects  of  nature  and  the  meta 
physical  isolation  of  man  teach  us  independence. 
Let  us  not  be  too  much  acquainted.  I  would  have  a 
man  enter  his  house  through  a  hall  filled  with  heroic 
and  sacred  sculptures,  that  he  might  not  want  the 
hint  of  tranquillity  and  self-poise.  We  should  meet 
each  morning,  as  from  foreign  countries,  and  spend 
ing  the  .day  together,  should  depart  at  night,  as  into 
foreign  countries.  In  all  things  I  would  have  the 
island  of  a  man  inviolate.  Let  us  sit  apart  as  the 
gods,  talking  from  peak  to  peak  all  around  Olympus. 
No  degree  of  affection  need  invade  this  religion. 
This  is  myrrh  and  rosemary  to  keep  the  other  sweet. 
Lovers  should  guard  their  strangeness.  If  they  for 
give  too  much,  all  slides  into  confusion  and  meanness. 


MANNERS.  103 

It  is  easy  to  push  this  deference  to  a  Chinese  eti 
quette  ;  but  coolness  and  absence  of  heat  and  haste 
indicate  fine  qualities.  A  gentleman  makes  no  noise  : 
a  lady  is  serene.  Proportionate  is  our  disgust  at 
those  invaders  who  fill  a  studious  house  with  blast 
and  running,  to  secure  some  paltry  convenience. 
Not  less  I  dislike  a  low  sympathy  of  each  with  his 
neighbor's  needs.  Must  we  have  a  good  understand 
ing  with  one  another's  palates  ?  as  foolish  people  who 
have  lived  long  together,  know  when  each  wants  salt  or 
sugar.  I  pray  my  companion,  if  he  wishes  for  bread, 
to  ask  me  for  bread,  and  if  he  wishes  for  sassafras  or 
arsenic,  to  ask  me  for  them,  and  not  to  hold  out  his 
plate,  as  if  I  knew  already.  Every  natural  function 
can  be  dignified  by  deliberation  and  privacy.  Let 
us  leave  hurry  to  slaves.  The  compliments  and 
ceremonies  of  our  breeding  should  signify,  however 
remotely,  the  recollection  of  the  grandeur  of  our 
destiny. 

The  flower  of  courtesy  does  not  very  well  bide 
handling,  but  if  we  dare  to  open  another  leaf,  and 
explore  what  parts  go  to  its  conformation,  we  shall 
find  also  an  intellectual  quality.  To  the  leaders  of 
men,  the  brain  as  well  as  the  flesh  and  the  heart 
must  furnish  a  proportion.  Defect  in  manners  is 
usually  the  defect  of  fine  perceptions.  Men  are  too 
coarsely  made  for  the  delicacy  of  beautiful  carriage 
and  customs.  It  is  not  quite  sufficient  to  good 
breeding,  a  union  of  kindness  and  independence. 
We  imperatively  require  a  perception  of,  and  a  hom 
age  to  beauty  in  our  companions.  Other  virtues  are 
in  request  in  the  field  and  workyard,  but  a  certain 


104  MANNERS. 

degree  of  taste  is  not  to  be  spared  in  those  we  sit 
with.  I  could  better  eat  with  one  who  did  not  re 
spect  the  truth  or  the  laws,  than  with  a  sloven  and 
unpresentable  person.  Moral  qualities  rule  the 
world,  but  at  short  distances,  the  senses  are  des 
potic.  The  same  discrimination  of  fit  and  fair  runs 
out,  if  with  less  rigor,  into  all  parts  of  life.  The 
average  spirit  of  the  energetic  class  is  good  sense, 
acting  under  certain  limitations  and  to  certain  ends. 
It  entertains  every  natural  gift.  Social  in  its  nature, 
it  respects  everything  which  tends  to  unite  men.  It 
delights  in  measure.  The  love  of  beauty  is  mainly 
the  love  of  measure  or  proportion.  The  person  who 
screams,  or  uses  the  superlative  degree,  or  converses 
with  heat,  puts  whole  drawing-rooms  to  flight.  If 
you  wish  to  be  loved,  love  measure.  You  must  have 
genius,  or  a  prodigious  usefulness,  if  you  will  hide 
the  want  of  measure.  This  perception  comes  in  to 
polish  and  perfect  the  parts  of  the  social  instruments. 
Society  will  pardon  much  to  genius  and  special  gifts, 
but,  being  in  its  nature  a  convention,  it  loves  what 
is  conventional,  or  what  belongs  to  coming  together. 
That  makes  the  good  and  bad  of  manners,  namely, 
what  helps  or  hinders  fellowship.  For,  fashion  is 
not  good  sense  absolute,  but  relative  ;  not  good  sense 
private,  but  good  sense  entertaining  company.  It 
hates  corners  and  sharp  points  of  character,  hates 
quarrelsome,  egotistical,  solitary,  and  gloomy  people  ; 
hates  whatever  can  interfere  with  total  blending  of 
parties ;  whilst  it  values  all  peculiarities  as  in  the 
highest  degree  refreshing,  which  can  consist  with 
good  fellowship.  And  besides  the  general  infusion 


MANNERS.  105 

of  wit  to  heighten  civility,  the  direct  splendor  of 
intellectual  power  is  ever  welcome  in  fine  society  as 
the  costliest  addition  to  its  rule  and  its  credit. 

The  dry  light  must  shine  in  to  adorn  our  festival, 
but  it  must  be  tempered  and  shaded,  or  that  will 
also  offend.  Accuracy  is  essential  to  beauty,,  and 
quick  perceptions  to  politeness,  but  not  too  quick 
perceptions.  One  may  be  too  punctual  and  too 
precise.  He  must  leave  the  omniscience  of  business 
at  the  door,  when  he  comes  into  the  palace  of  beauty. 
Society  loves  Creole  natures,  and  sleepy,  languishing 
manners,  so  that  they  cover  sense,  grace,  and  good 
will  ;  the  air  of  drowsy  strength,  which  disarms 
criticism;  perhaps  because  such  a  person  seems  to 
reserve  himself  for  the  best  of  the  game,  and  not 
spend  himself  on  surfaces  ;  an  ignoring  eye,  which 
does  not  see  the  annoyances,  shifts  and  inconven 
ience,  that  cloud  the  brow  and  smother  the  voice  of 
the  sensitive. 

Therefore,  besides  personal  force  and  so  much 
perception  as  constitutes  unerring  taste,  society  de 
mands  in  its  patrician  class,  another  element  already 
intimated,  which  it  significantly  terms  good-nature, 
expressing  all  degrees  of  generosity,  from  the  lowest 
willingness  and  faculty  to  oblige,  up  to  the  heights  of 
magnanimity  and  love.  Insight  we  must  have,  or  we 
shall  run  against  one  another,  and  miss  the  way  to 
our  food ;  but  intellect  is  selfish  and  barren.  The 
secret  of  success  in  society,  is  a  certain  heartiness 
and  sympathy.  A  man  who  is  not  happy  in  the 
company,  cannot  find  any  word  in  his  memory  that 
will  fit  the  occasion.  All  his  information  is  a  little 


io6  MANNERS. 

impertinent.  A  man  who  is  happy  there,  finds  in 
every  turn  of  the  conversation  equally  lucky  occa 
sions  for  the  introduction  of  that  which  he  has  to 
say.  The  favorites  of  society  and  what  it  calls  whole 
souls,  are  able  men,  and  of  more  spirit  than  wit,  who 
have  no  uncomfortable  egotism,  but  who  exactly  fill 
the  hour  and  the  company,  contented  and  contenting, 
at  a  marriage  or  a  funeral,  a  ball  or  a  jury,  a  water- 
party  or  a  shooting-match.  England,  which  is  rich 
in  gentlemen,  furnished,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  a  good  model  of  that  genius  which 
the  world  loves,  in  Mr.  Fox,  who  added  to  his  great 
abilities  the  most  social  disposition,  and  real  love  of 
men.  Parliamentary  history  has  few  better  passages 
than  the  debate,  in  which  Burke  and  Fox  separated 
in  the  House  of  Commons ;  when  Fox  urged  on  his 
old  friend  the  claims  of  old  friendship  with  such  ten 
derness,  that  the  house  was  moved  to  tears.  Another 
anecdote  is  so  close  to  my  matter,  that  I  must  hazard 
the  story.  A  tradesman  who  had  long  dunned  him 
for  a  note  of  three  hundred  guineas,  found  him  one 
day  counting  gold,  and  demanded  payment :  "  No," 
said  Fox,  "I  owe  this  money  to  Sheridan:  it  is 
a  debt  of  honor:  if  an  accident  should  happen  to 
me,  he  has  nothing  to  show."  "  Then,"  said  the 
creditor,  "  I  change  my  debt  into  a  debt  of  honor," 
and  tore  the  note  in  pieces.  -Fox  thanked  the  man 
for  his  confidence,  and  paid  him,  saying,  "his  debt 
was  of  older  standing,  and  Sheridan  must  wait." 
Lover  of  Liberty,  friend  of  the  Hindoo,  friend  of  the 
African  slave,  he  possessed  a  great  personal  popu 
larity  ;  and  Napoleon  said  of  him  on  the  occasion  of 


MANNERS.  107 

his  visit  to  Paris,  in  1805,  "Mr.  Fox  will  always 
hold  the  first  place  in  an  assembly  at  the  Tuileries." 
We  may  easily  seem  ridiculous  in  our  eulogy  of 
courtesy,  whenever  we  insist  on  benevolence  as  its 
foundation.  The  painted  phantasm  Fashion  rises 
to  cast  a  species  of  derision  on  what  we  say.  But 
I  will  neither  be  driven  from  some  allowance  to 
Fashion  as  a  symbolic  institution,  nor  from  the 
belief  that  love  is  the  basis  of  courtesy.  We  must 
obtain  that,  if  we  can ;  but  by  all  means  we  must 
affirm  this.  Life  owes  much  of  its  spirit  to  these 
sharp  contrasts.  Fashion  which  affects  to  be  honor, 
is  often,  in  all  men's  experience,  only  a  ballroom- 
code.  Yet,  so  long  as  it  is  the  highest  circle,  in 
the  imagination  of  the  best  heads  on  the  planet, 
there  is  something  necessary  and  excellent  in  it; 
for  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  men  have  agreed 
to  be  the  dupes  of  anything  preposterous ;  and  the 
respect  which  these  mysteries  inspire  in  the  most 
rude  and  sylvan  characters,  and  the  curiosity  with 
which  details  of  high  life  are  read,  betray  the  univer 
sality  of  the  love  of  cultivated  manners.  I  know 
that  a  comic  disparity  would  be  felt,  if  we  should 
enter  the  acknowledged  '  first  circles '  and  apply  these 
terrific  standards  of  justice,  beauty,  and  benefit  to 
the  individuals  actually  found  there.  Monarchs  and 
heroes,  sages  and  lovers,  these  gallants  are  not. 
Fashion  has  many  classes  and  many  rules  of  proba 
tion  and  admission  ;  and  not  the  best  alone.  There 
is  not  only  the  right  of  conquest,  which  genius  pre 
tends,  —  the  individual,  demonstrating  his  natural 
aristocracy  best  of  the  best;  —  but  less  claims  will 


io8  MANNERS. 

pass  for  the  time  ;  for  Fashion  loves  lions,  and  points, 
like  Circe,  to  her  horned  company.  This  gentleman 
is  this  afternoon  arrived  from  Denmark ;  and  that  is 
my  Lord  Ride,  who  came  yesterday  from  Bagdat; 
here  is  Captain  Friese,  from  Cape  Turnagain ;  and 
Captain  Symmes,  from  the  interior  of  the  earth ;  and 
Monsieur  Jovaire,  who  came  down  this  morning  in  a 
balloon ;  Mr.  Hobnail,  the  reformer ;  and  Reverend 
Jul  Bat,  who  has  converted  the  whole  torrid  zone  in 
his  Sunday-school;  and  Signer  Torre  del  Greco, 
who  extinguished  Vesuvius  by  pouring  into  it  the 
Bay  of  Naples  ;  Spahi,  the  Persian  ambassador ;  and 
Tul  Wil  Shan,  the  exiled  nabob  of  Nepaul,  whose 
saddle  is  the  new  moon.  —  But  these  are  monsters  of 
one  day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  dismissed  to  their 
holes  and  dens ;  for,  in  these  rooms,  every  chair  is 
waited  for.  The  artist,  the  scholar,  and,  in  general, 
the  clerisy,  wins  its  way  up  into  these  places,  and 
gets  represented  here,  somewhat  on  this  footing  of 
conquest.  Another  mode  is  to  pass  through  all  the 
degrees,  spending  a  year  and  a  day  in  St.  Michael's 
Square,  being  steeped  in  Cologne  water,  and  per 
fumed,  and  dined,  and  introduced,  and  properly 
grounded  in  all  the  biography,  and  politics,  and  anec 
dotes  of  the  boudoirs. 

Yet  these  fineries  may  have  grace  and  wit.  Let 
there  be  grotesque  sculpture  about  the  gates  and 
offices  of  temples.  Let  the  creed  and  command 
ments  even  have  the  saucy  homage  of  parody.  The 
forms  of  politeness  universally  express  benevolence 
in  superlative  degrees.  What  if  they  are  in  the 
mouths  of  selfish  men,  and  used  as  means  of  selfish- 


MANNERS.  109 

ness  ?  What  if  the  false  gentleman  almost  bows  the 
true  out  of  the  world  ?  What  if  the  false  gentleman 
contrives  so  to  address  his  companion,  as  civilly  to 
exclude  all  others  from  his  discourse,  and  also  to 
make  them  feel  excluded  ?  Real  service  will  not  lose 
its  nobleness.  All  generosity  is  not  merely  French 
and  sentimental ;  nor  is  it  to  be  concealed,  that  living 
blood  and  a  passion  of  kindness  does  at  last  distin 
guish  God's  gentleman  from  Fashion's.  The  epitaph 
of  Sir  Jenkin  Grout  is  not  wholly  unintelligible  to 
the  present  age.  "  Here  lies  Sir  Jenkin  Grout,  who 
loved  his  friend,  and  persuaded  his  enemy :  what  his 
mouth  ate,  his  hand  paid  for :  what  his  servants 
robbed,  he  restored :  if  a  woman  gave  him  pleasure, 
he  supported  her  in  pain :  he  never  forgot  his  chil 
dren  :  and  whoso  touched  his  finger,  drew  after  it  his 
whole  body."  Even  the  line  of  heroes  is  not  utterly 
extinct.  There  is  still  ever  some  admirable  person 
in  plain  clothes,  standing  on  the  wharf,  who  jumps 
in  to  rescue  a  drowning  man;  there  is  still  some 
absurd  inventor  of  charities ;  some  guide  and  com 
forter  of  runaway  slaves ;  some  friend  of  Poland ; 
some  Philhellene ;  some  fanatic  who  plants  shade- 
trees  for  the  second  and  third  generation,  and  or 
chards  when  he  is  grown  old ;  some  well-concealed 
piety ;  some  just  man  happy  in  an  ill-fame ;  some 
youth  ashamed  of  the  favors  of  fortune,  and  impa 
tiently  casting  them  on  other  shoulders.  And  these 
are  the  centres  of  society,  on  which  it  returns  for 
fresh  impulses.  These  are  the  creators  of  Fashion, 
which  is  an  attempt  to  organize  beauty  of  behavior. 
The  beautiful  and  the  generous  are,  in  the  theory, 


HO  MANNERS. 

the  doctors  and  apostles  of  this  church :  Scipio,  and 
the  Cid,  and  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  Washington,  and 
every  pure  and  valiant  heart,  who  worshipped  Beauty 
by  word  and  by  deed.  The  persons  who  constitute 
the  natural  aristocracy,  are  not  found  in  the  actual 
aristocracy,  or,  only  on  its  edge ;  as  the  chemical 
energy  of  the  spectrum  is  found  to  be  greatest  just 
outside  of  the  spectrum.  Yet  that  is  the  infirmity 
of  the  seneschals,  who  do  not  know  their  sover 
eign,  when  he  appears.  The  theory  of  society  sup 
poses  the  existence  and  sovereignty  of  these.  It 
divines  afar  off  their  coming.  It  says  with  the  elder 
gods,  — 

As  Heaven  and  Earth  are  fairer  far 

Than  Chaos  and  blank  Darkness,  though  once  chiefs ; 

And  as  we  show  beyond  that  Heaven  and  Earth, 

In  form  and  shape  compact  and  beautiful ; 

So,  on  our  heels  a  fresh  perfection  treads ; 

A  power,  more  strong  in  beauty,  born  of  us, 

And  fated  to  excel  us,  as  we  pass 

In  glory  that  old  Darkness  : 

for,  'tis  the  eternal  law, 

That  first  in  beauty  shall  be  first  in  might. 

Therefore,  within  the  ethnical  circle  of  good  so 
ciety,  there  is  a  narrower  and  higher  circle,  concen 
tration  of  its  light,  and  flower  of  courtesy,  to  which 
there  is  always  a  tacit  appeal  of  pride  and  reference, 
as  to  its  inner  and  imperial  court,  the  parliament  of 
love  and  chivalry.  And  this  is  constituted  of  those 
persons  in  whom  heroic  dispositions  are  native,  with 
the  love  of  beauty,  the  delight  in  society,  and  the 
power  to  embellish  the  passing  day.  If  the  indi- 


MANNERS.  1 1 1 

viduals  who  compose  the  purest  circles  of  aristocracy 
in  Europe,  the  guarded  blood  of  centuries,  should 
pass  in  review,  in  such  manner  as  that  we  could,  at 
leisure,  and  critically  inspect  their  behavior,  we  might 
find  no  gentleman,  and  no  lady ;  for,  although  excel 
lent  specimens  of  courtesy  and  high-breeding  would 
gratify  us  in  the  assemblage,  in  the  particulars,  we 
should  detect  offence.  Because,  elegance  comes  of 
no  breeding,  but  of  birth.  There  must  be  romance 
of  character,  or  the  most  fastidious  exclusion  of  im- 
pertinencies  will  not  avail.  It  must  be  genius  which 
takes  that  direction :  it  must  be  not  courteous,  but 
courtesy.  High  behavior  is  as  rare  in  fiction,  as  it  is 
in  fact.  Scott  is  praised  for  the  fidelity  with  which 
he  painted  the  demeanor  and  conversation  of  the  su 
perior  classes.  Certainly,  kings  and  queens,  nobles 
and  great  ladies,  had  some  right  to  complain  of  the 
absurdity  that  had  been  put  in  their  mouths,  before 
the  days  of  Waverley ;  but  neither  does  Scott's  dia 
logue  bear  criticism.  His  lords  brave  each  other  in 
smart  epigrammatic  speeches,  but  the  dialogue  is  in 
costume,  and  does  not  please  on  the  second  reading : 
it  is  not  warm  with  life.  In  Shakspeare  alone,  the 
speakers  do  not  strut  and  bridle,  the  dialogue  is  easily 
great,  and  he  adds  to  so  many  titles  that  of  being 
the  best-bred  man  in  England,  and  in  Christendom. 
Once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime  we  are  permitted  to  enjoy 
the  charm  of  noble  manners,  in  the  presence  of  a 
man  or  woman  who  have  no  bar  in  their  nature,  but 
whose  character  emanates  freely  in  their  word  and 
gesture.  A  beautiful  form  is  better  than  a  beautiful 
face ;  a  beautiful  behavior  is  better  than  a  beautiful 


1 1 2  MANNERS. 

form :  it  gives  a  higher  pleasure  than  statues  or  pic 
tures  ;  it  is  the  finest  of  the  fine  arts.  A  man  is  but 
a  little  thing  in  the  midst  of  the  objects  of  nature, 
yet,  by  the  moral  quality  radiating  from  his  counte 
nance,  he  may  abolish  all  considerations  of  magni 
tude,  and  in  his  manners  equal  the  majesty  of  the 
world.  I  have  seen  an  individual,  whose  manners, 
though  wholly  within  the  conventions  of  elegant  so 
ciety,  were  never  learned  there,  but  were  original  and 
commanding,  and  held  out  protection  and  prosperity ; 
one  who  did  not  need  the  aid  of  a  court-suit,  but 
carried  the  holiday  in  his  eye ;  who  exhilarated  the 
fancy  by  flinging  wide  the  doors  of  new  modes  of 
existence ;  who  shook  off  the  captivity  of  etiquette, 
with  happy,  spirited  bearing,  good-natured  and  free 
as  Robin  Hood ;  yet  with  the  port  of  an  emperor, 
—  if  need  be,  calm,  serious,  and  fit  to  stand  the  gaze 
of  millions. 

The  open  air  and  the  fields,  the  street  and  public 
chambers,  are  the  places  where  Man  executes  his 
will ;  let  him  yield  or  divide  the  sceptre  at  the  door 
of  the  house.  Woman,  with  her  instinct  of  behavior, 
instantly  detects  in  man  a  love  of  trifles,  any  coldness 
or  imbecility,  or,  in  short,  any  want  of  that  large, 
flowing,  and  magnanimous  deportment,  which  is  in 
dispensable  as  an  exterior  in  the  hall.  Our  Ameri 
can  institutions  have  been  friendly  to  her,  and  at  this 
moment,  I  esteem  it  a  chief  felicity  of  this  country, 
that  it  excels  in  women.  A  certain  awkward  con 
sciousness  of  inferiority  in  the  men,  may  give  rise  to 
the  new  chivalry  in  behalf  of  Woman's  Rights.  Cer 
tainly,  let  her  be  as  much  better  placed  in  the  laws 


MANNERS.  113 

and  in  social  forms,  as  the  most  zealous  reformer  can 
ask,  but  I  confide  so  entirely  in  her  inspiring  and 
musical  nature,  that  I  believe  only  herself  can  show 
us  how  she  shall  be  served.  The  wonderful  gen 
erosity  of  her  sentiments  raises  her  at  times  into 
heroical  and  godlike  regions,  and  verifies  the  pictures 
of  Minerva,  Juno,  or  Polymnia ;  and,  by  the  firm 
ness  with  which  she  treads  her  upward  path,  she 
convinces  the  coarsest  calculators  that  another  road 
exists,  than  that  which  their  feet  know.  But  besides 
those  who  make  good  in  our  imagination  the  place  of 
muses  and  of  Delphic  Sibyls,  are  there  not  women 
who  fill  our  vase  with  wine  and  roses  to  the  brim, 
so  that  the  wine  runs  over  and  fills  the  house  with 
perfume  ;  who  inspire  us  with  courtesy ;  who  unloose 
our  tongues,  and  we  speak;  who  anoint  our  eyes, 
and  we  see?  We  say  things  we  never  thought  to 
have  said;  for  once,  our  walls  of  habitual  reserve 
vanished,  and  left  us  at  large  ;  we  were  children  play 
ing  with  children  in  a  wide  field  of  flowers.  Steep 
us,  we  cried,  in  these  influences,  for  days,  for  weeks, 
and  we  shall  be  sunny  poets,  and  will  write  out  in 
many-colored  words  the  romance  that  you  are.  Was 
it  Hafiz  or  Firdousi  that  said  of  his  Persian  Lilla,  She 
was  an  elemental  force,  and  astonished  me  by  her 
amount  of  life,  when  I  saw  her  day  after  day  radiat 
ing,  every  instant,  redundant  joy  and  grace  on  all 
around  her.  She  was  a  solvent  powerful  to  reconcile 
all  heterogeneous  persons  into  one  society :  like  air 
or  water,  an  element  of  such  a  great  range  of  affini 
ties,  that  it  combines  readily  with  a  thousand  sub 
stances.  Where  she  is  present,  all  others  will  be 


114  MANNERS. 

more  than  they  are  wont.  She  was  a  unit  and  whole, 
so  that  whatsoever  she  did,  became  her.  She  had  too 
much  sympathy  and  desire  to  please,  than  that  you 
could  say,  her  manners  were  marked  with  dignity, 
yet  no  princess  could  surpass  her  clear  and  erect 
demeanor  on  each  occasion.  She  did  not  study  the 
Persian  grammar,  nor  the  books  of  the  seven  poets, 
but  all  the  poems  of  the  seven  seemed  to  be  written 
upon  her.  For,  though  the  bias  of  her  nature  was 
not  to  thought,  but  to  sympathy,  yet  was  she  so  per 
fect  in  her  own  nature,  as  to  meet  intellectual  per 
sons  by  the  fulness  of  her  heart,  warming  them  by 
her  sentiments ;  believing,  as  she  did,  that  by  deal 
ing  nobly  with  all,  all  would  show  themselves  noble. 

I  know  that  this  Byzantine  pile  of  chivalry  or 
Fashion,  which  seems  so  fair  and  picturesque  to  those 
who  look  at  the  contemporary  facts  for  science  or 
for  entertainment,  is  not  equally  pleasant  to  all  spec 
tators.  The  constitution  of  our  society  makes  it  a 
giant's  castle  to  the  ambitious  youth  who  have  not 
found  their  names  enrolled  in  its  Golden  Book,  and 
whom  it  has  excluded  from  its  coveted  honors  and 
privileges.  They  have  yet  to  learn  that  its  seeming 
grandeur  is  shadowy  and  relative :  it  is  great  by  their 
allowance:  its  proudest  gates  will  fly  open  at  the 
approach  of  their  courage  and  virtue.  For  the  present 
distress,  however,  of  those  who  are  predisposed  to 
suffer  from  the  tyrannies  of  this  caprice,  there  are 
easy  remedies.  To  remove  your  residence  a  couple 
of  miles,  or  at  most  four,  will  commonly  relieve  the 
most  extreme  susceptibility.  For,  the  advantages 


MANNERS.  115 

which  fashion  values,  are  plants  which  thrive  in  very 
confined  localities,  in  a  few  streets,  namely.  Out  of 
this  precinct,  they  go  for  nothing ;  are  of  no  use  in 
the  farm,  in  the  forest,  in  the  market,  in  war,  in  the 
nuptial  society,  in  the  literary  or  scientific  circle,  at 
sea,  in  friendship,  in  the  heaven  of  thought  or  virtue. 
But  we  have  lingered  long  enough  in  these  painted 
courts.  The  worth  of  the  thing  signified  must  vin 
dicate  our  taste  for  the  emblem.  Everything  that 
is  called  fashion  and  courtesy  humbles  itself  before 
the  cause  and  fountain  of  honor,  creator  of  titles 
and  dignities,  namely,  the  heart  of  love.  This  is  the 
royal  blood,  this  is  the  fire,  which,  in  all  countries 
and  contingencies,  will  work  after  its  kind,  and  con 
quer  and  expand  all  that  approaches  it.  This  gives 
new  meanings  to  every  fact.  This  impoverishes  the 
rich,  suffering  no  grandeur  but  its  own.  What  is 
rich?  Are  you  rich  enough  to  help  anybody?  to 
succor  the  unfashionable  and  the  eccentric?  rich 
enough  to  make  the  Canadian  in  his  wagon,  the  itin 
erant  with  his  consul's  paper  which  commends  him 
"  To  the  charitable,"  the  swarthy  Italian  with  his  few 
broken  words  of  English,  the  lame  pauper  hunted  by 
overseers  from  town  to  town,  even  the  poor  insane 
or  besotted  wreck  of  man  or  woman,  feel  the  noble 
exception  of  your  presence  and  your  house,  from  the 
general  bleakness  and  stoniness ;  to  make  such  feel 
that  they  were  greeted  with  a  voice  which  made  them 
both  remember  and  hope?  What  is  vulgar,  but  to 
refuse  the  claim  on  acute  and  conclusive  reasons? 
What  is  gentle,  but  to  allow  it,  and  give  their  heart 
and  yours  one  holiday  from  the  national  caution? 


Il6  MANNERS. 

Without  the  rich  heart,  wealth  is  an  ugly  beggar. 
The  king  of  Schiraz  could  not  afford  to  be  so  bounti 
ful  as  the  poor  Osman  who  dwelt  at  his  gate.  Os- 
man  had  a  humanity  so  broad  and  deep,  that  although 
his  speech  was  so  bold  and  free  with  the  Koran,  as  to 
disgust  all  the  dervishes,  yet  was  there  never  a  poor 
outcast,  eccentric,  or  insane  man,  some  fool  who 
had  cut  off  his  beard,  or  who  had  been  mutilated 
under  a  vow,  or  had  a  pet  madness  in  his  brain,  but 
fled  at  once  to  him,  —  that  great  heart  lay  there  so 
sunny  and  hospitable  in  the  centre  of  the  country, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  the  instinct  of  all  sufferers  drew 
them  to  his  side.  And  the  madness  which  he  har 
bored,  he  did  not  share.  Is  not  this  to  be  rich?  this 
only  to  be  rightly  rich? 

But  I  shall  hear  without  pain,  that  I  play  the  court 
ier  very  ill,  and  talk  of  that  which  I  do  not  well  under 
stand.  It  is  easy  to  see,  that  what  is  called  by 
distinction  society  and  fashion,  has  good  laws  as  well 
as  bad,  has  much  that  is  necessary,  and  much  that  is 
absurd.  Too  good  for  banning,  and  too  bad  for 
blessing,  it  reminds  us  of  a  tradition  of  the  pagan 
mythology,  in  any  attempt  to  settle  its  character.  '  I 
overheard  Jove,  one  day,'  said  Silenus,  '  talking  of 
destroying  the  earth;  he  said,  it  had  failed;  they 
were  all  rogues  and  vixens,  who  went  from  bad  to 
worse,  as  fast  as  the  days  succeeded  each  other. 
Minerva  said,  she  hoped  not ;  they  were  only  ridicu 
lous  little  creatures,  with  this  odd  circumstance,  that 
they  had  a  blur,  or  indeterminate  aspect,  seen  far  or 
seen  near ;  if  you  called  them  bad,  they  would  appear 
so ;  if  you  called  them  good,  they  would  appear  so  ; 


1 1 7 

and  there  was  no  one  person  or  action  among  them, 
which  would  not  puzzle  her  owl,  much  more  all 
Olympus,  to  know  whether  it  was  fundamentally  bad 
or  good.' 


ESSAY   V. 

GIFTS. 

Gifts  of  one  who  loved  me,  — 
'Twas  high  time  they  came ; 
When  he  ceased  to  love  me, 
Time  they  stopped  for  shame. 

IT  is  said  that  the  world  is  in  a  state  of  bankruptcy, 
that  the  world  owes  the  world  more  than  the  world 
can  pay,  and  ought  to  go  into  chancery,  and  be  sold. 
I  do  not  think  this  general  insolvency,  which  involves 
in  some  sort  all  the  population,  to  be  the  reason  of 
the  difficulty  experienced  at  Christmas  and  New  Year, 
and  other  times,  in  bestowing  gifts  ;  since  it  is  always 
so  pleasant  to  be  generous,  though  very  vexatious  to 
pay  debts.  But  the  impediment  lies  in  the  choosing. 
If,  at  any  time,  it  comes  into  my  head,  that  a  present 
is  due  from  me  to  somebody,  I  am  puzzled  what  to 
give,  until  the  opportunity  is  gone.  Flowers  and 
fruits  are  always  fit  presents ;  flowers,  because  they 
are  a  proud  assertion  that  a  ray  of  beauty  outvalues 
all  the  utilities  of  the  world.  These  gay  natures 
contrast  with  the  somewhat  stern  countenance  of 
ordinary  nature :  they  are  like  music  heard  out  of  a 
work-house.  Nature  does  not  cocker  us :  we  are 
children/  not  pets :  she  is  not  fond :  everything  is 
1x8 


GIFTS.  119 

dealt  to  us  without  fear  or  favor,  after  severe  universal 
laws.  Yet  these  delicate  flowers  look  like  the  frolic 
and  interference  of  love  and  beauty.  Men  use  to 
tell  us  that  we  love  flattery,  even  though  we  are 
not  deceived  by  it,  because  it  shows  that  we  are  of 
importance  enough  to  be  courted.  Something  like 
that  pleasure,  the  flowers  give  us:  what  am  I  to 
whom  these  sweet  hints  are  addressed?  Fruits  are 
acceptable  gifts,  because  they  are  the  flower  of  com 
modities,  and  admit  of  fantastic  values  being  attached 
to  them.  If  a  man  should  send  to  me  to  come  a 
hundred  miles  to  visit  him,  and  should  set  before  me 
a  basket  of  fine  summer-fruit,  I  should  think  there  was 
some  proportion  between  the  labor  and  the  reward. 

For  common  gifts,  necessity  makes  pertinences 
and  beauty  every  day,  and  one  is  glad  when  an  im 
perative  leaves  him  no  option,  since  if  the  man  at 
the  door  have  no  shoes,  you  have  not  to  consider 
whether  you  could  procure  him  a  paint  box.  And  as 
it  is  always  pleasing  to  see  a  man  eat  bread,  or  drink 
water,  in  the  house  or  out  of  doors,  so  it  is  always 
a  great  satisfaction  to  supply  these  first  wants.  Ne 
cessity  does  everything  well.  In  our  condition  of 
universal  dependence,  it  seems  heroic  to  let  the  peti 
tioner  be  the  judge  of  his  necessity,  and  to  give  all 
that  is  asked,  though  at  great  inconvenience.  If 
it  be  a  fantastic  desire,  it  is  better  to  leave  to  others 
the  office  of  punishing  him.  I  can  think  of  many 
parts  I  should  prefer  playing  to  that  of  the  Furies. 
Next  to  things  of  necessity,  the  rule  for  a  gift,  which 
one  of  my  friends  prescribed,  is,  that  we  might  convey 
to  some  person  that  which  properly  belonged  to  his 


120  GIFTS. 

character,  and  was  easily  associated  with  him  in 
thought.  But  our  tokens  of  compliment  and  love 
are  for  the  most  part  barbarous.  Rings  and  other 
jewels  are  not  gifts,  but  apologies  for  gifts.  The 
only  gift  is  a  portion  of  thyself.  Thou  must  bleed 
for  me.  Therefore  the  poet  brings  his  poem ;  the 
shepherd,  his  lamb ;  the  farmer,  corn ;  the  miner,  a 
gem;  the  sailor,  coral  and  shells;  the  painter,  his 
picture ;  the  girl,  a  handkerchief  of  her  own  sewing. 
This  is  right  and  pleasing,  for  it  restores  society  in  so 
far  to  its  primary  basis,  when  a  man's  biography  is 
conveyed  in  his  gift,  and  every  man's  wealth  is  an 
index  of  his  merit.  But  it  is  a  cold,  lifeless  business 
when  you  go  to  the  shops  to  buy  me  something,  which 
does  not  represent  your  life  and  talent,  but  a  gold 
smith's.  This  is  fit  for  kings,  and  rich  men  who  rep 
resent  kings,  and  a  false  state  of  property,  to  make 
presents  of  gold  and  silver  stuffs,  as  a  kind  of  sym 
bolical  sin-offering,  or  payment  of  black-mail. 

The  law  of  benefits  is  a  difficult  channel,  which 
requires  careful  sailing,  or  rude  boats.  It  is  not  the 
office  of  a  man  to  receive  gifts.  How  dare  you  giv3 
them?  We  wish  to  be  self-sustained.  We  do  not 
quite  forgive  a  giver.  The  hand  that  feeds  us  is  in 
some  danger  of  being  bitten.  We  can  receive  any 
thing  from  love,  for  that  is  a  way  of  receiving  it  from 
ourselves ;  but  not  from  any  one  who  assumes  to 
bestow.  We  sometimes  hate  the  meat  which  we  eat, 
because  there  seems  something  of  degrading  depend 
ence  in  living  by  it. 

Brother,  if  Jove  to  thee  a  present  make, 

Take  heed  that  from  his  hands  thou  nothing  take. 


GIFTS.  121 

We  ask  the  whole.  Nothing  less  will  content  us. 
We  arraign  society,  if  it  do  not  give  us  besides  earth, 
and  fire,  and  water,  opportunity,  love,  reverence,  and 
objects  of  veneration. 

He  is  a  good  man,  who  can  receive  a  gift  well. 
We  are  either  glad  or  sorry  at  a  gift,  and  both  emo 
tions  are  unbecoming.  Some  violence,  I  think,  is 
done,  some  degradation  borne,  when  I  rejoice  or 
grieve  at  a  gift.  I  am  sorry  when  my  independence 
is  invaded,  or  when  a  gift  comes  from  such  as  do  not 
know  my  spirit,  and  so  the  act  is  not  supported ;  and 
if  the  gift  pleases  me  overmuch,  then  I  should  be 
ashamed  that  the  donor  should  read  my  heart,  and 
see  that  I  love  his  commodity  and  not  him.  The 
gift,  to  be  true,  must  be  the  flowing  of  the  giver  unto 
me,  correspondent  to  my  flowing  unto  him.  When 
the  waters  are  at  level,  then  my  goods  pass  to  him, 
and  his  to  me.  All  his  are  mine,  all  mine  his.  I 
say  to  him,  How  can  you  give  me  this  pot  of  oil,  or 
this  flagon  of  wine,  when  all  your  oil  and  wine  is 
mine,  which  belief  of  mine  this  gift  seems  to  deny? 
Hence  the  fitness  of  beautiful,  not  useful  things  for 
gifts.  This  giving  is  flat  usurpation,  and  therefore 
when  the  beneficiary  is  ungrateful,  as  all  beneficiaries 
hate  all  Timons,  not  at  all  considering  the  value  of 
the  gift,  but  looking  back  to  the  greater  store  it  was 
taken  from,  I  rather  sympathize  with  the  beneficiary, 
than  with  the  anger  of  my  lord  Timon.  For,  the 
expectation  of  gratitude  is  mean,  and  is  continually 
punished  by  the  total  insensibility  of  the  obliged  per 
son.  It  is  a  great  happiness  to  get  off  without  injury 
and  heart-burning,  from  one  who  has  had  the  ill  luck 


122  GIFTS. 

to  be  served  by  you.  It  is  a  very  onerous  business, 
this  of  being  served,  and  the  debtor  naturally  wishes 
to  give  you  a  slap.  A  golden  text  for  these  gentle 
men  is  that  which  I  so  admire  in  the  Buddhist,  who 
never  thanks,  and  who  says,  "  Do  not  flatter  your 
benefactors.1' 

The  reason  of  these  discords  I  conceive  to  be,  that 
there  is  no  commensurability  between  a  man  and  any 
gift.  You  cannot  give  anything  to  a  magnanimous 
person.  After  you  have  served  him,  he  at  once  puts 
you  in  debt  by  his  magnanimity.  The  service  a  man 
renders  his  friend  is  trivial  and  selfish,  compared  with 
the  service  he  knows  his  friend  stood  in  readiness  to 
yield  him,  alike  before  he  had  begun  to  serve  his 
friend,  and  now  also.  Compared  with  that  good-will 
I  bear  my  friend,  the  benefit  it  is  in  my  power  to  ren 
der  him  seems  small.  Besides,  our  action  on  each 
other,  good  as  well  as  evil,  is  so  incidental  and  at 
random,  that  we  can  seldom  hear  the  acknowledg 
ments  of  any  person  who  would  thank  us  for  a  bene 
fit,  without  some  shame  and  humiliation.  We  can 
rarely  strike  a  direct  stroke,  but  must  be  content  with 
an  oblique  one;  we  seldom  have  the  satisfaction  of 
yielding  a  direct  benefit,  which  is  directly  received. 
But  rectitude  scatters  favors  on  every  side  without 
knowing  it,  and  receives  with  wonder  the  thanks  of 
all  people. 

I  fear  to  breathe  any  treason  against  the  majesty 
of  love,  which  is  the  genius  and  god  of  gifts,  and  to 
whom  we  must  not  affect  to  prescribe.  Let  him  give 
kingdoms  or  flower-leaves  indifferently.  There  are 
persons,  from  whom  we  always  expect  fairy  tokens ; 


GIFTS.  123 

let  us  not  cease  to  expect  them.  This  is  prerogative, 
and  not  to  be  limited  by  our  municipal  rules.  For 
the  rest,  I  like  to  see  that  we  cannot  be  bought  and 
sold.  The  best  of  hospitality  and  of  generosity  is 
also  not  in  the  will  but  in  fate.  I  find  that  I  am  not 
much  to  you ;  you  do  not  need  me ;  you  do  not  feel 
me ;  then  am  I  thrust  out  of  doors,  though  you  prof 
fer  me  house  and  lands.  No  services  are  of  any 
value,  but  only  likeness.  When  I  have  attempted  to 
join  myself  to  others  by  services,  it  proved  an  intel 
lectual  trick, — no  more.  They  eat  your  service  like 
apples,  and  leave  you  out.  But  love  them,  and  they 
feel  you,  and  delight  in  you  all  the  time. 


ESSAY    VI. 

NATURE. 

The  rounded  world  is  fair  to  see, 

Nine  times  folded  in  mystery : 

Though  baffled  seers  cannot  impart 

The  secret  of  its  laboring  heart, 

Throb  thine  with  Nature's  throbbing  breast, 

And  all  is  clear  from  east  to  west. 

Spirit  that  lurks  each  form  within 

Beckons  to  spirit  of  its  kin ; 

Self-kindled  every  atom  glows, 

And  hints  the  future  which  it  owes. 

THERE  are  days  which  occur  in  this  climate,  at 
almost  any  season  of  the  year,  wherein  the  world 
reaches  its  perfection,  when  the  air,  the  heavenly 
bodies,  and  the  earth,  make  a  harmony,  as  if  nature 
would  indulge  her  offspring;  when,  in  these  bleak 
upper  sides  of  the  planet,  nothing  is  to  desire  that 
we  have  heard  of  the  happiest  latitudes,  and  we  bask 
in  the  shining  hours  of  Florida  and  Cuba ;  when 
everything  that  has  life  gives  sign  of  satisfaction, 
and  the  cattle  that  lie  on  the  ground  seem  to  have 
great  and  tranquil  thoughts.  These  halcyons  may 
be  looked  for  with  a  little  more  assurance  in  that 
pure  October  weather,  which  we  distinguish  by  the 
name  of  the  Indian  Summer.  The  day,  immeasur- 
124 


NATURE.  125 

ably  long,  sleeps  over  the  broad  hills  and  warm  wide 
fields.  To  have  lived  through  all  its  sunny  hours, 
seems  longevity  enough.  The  solitary  places  do  not 
seem  quite  lonely.  At  the  gates  of  the  forest,  the 
surprised  man  of  the  world  is  forced  to  leave  his 
city  estimates  of  great  and  small,  wise  and  foolish. 
The  knapsack  of  custom  falls  off  his  back  with  the 
first  step  he  makes  into  these  precincts.  Here  is 
sanctity  which  shames  our  religions,  and  reality 
which  discredits  our  heroes.  Here  we  find  nature 
to  be  the  circumstance  which  dwarfs  every  other 
circumstance,  and  judges  like  a  god  all  men  that 
come  to  her.  We  have  crept  out  of  our  close  and 
crowded  houses  into  the  night  and  morning,  and  we 
see  what  majestic  beauties  daily  wrap  us  in  their 
bosom.  How  willingly  we  would  escape  the  bar 
riers  which  render  them  comparatively  impotent, 
escape  the  sophistication  and  second  thought,  and 
suffer  nature  to  entrance  us.  The  tempered  light 
of  the  woods  is  like  a  perpetual  morning,  and  is 
stimulating  and  heroic.  The  anciently  reported 
spells  of  these  places  creep  on  us.  The  stems  of 
pines,  hemlocks,  and  oaks,  almost  gleam  like  iron 
on  the  excited  eye.  The  incommunicable  trees  begin 
to  persuade  us  to  live  with  them,  and  quit  our  life 
of  solemn  trifles.  Here  no  history,  or  church,  or 
state,  is  interpolated  on  the  divine  sky  and  the  im 
mortal  year.  How  easily  we  might  walk  onward 
into  the  opening  landscape,  absorbed  by  new  pic 
tures,  and  by  thoughts  fast  succeeding  each  other, 
until  by  degrees  the  recollection  of  home  was 
crowded  out  of  the  mind,  all  memory  obliterated 


126  NATURE. 

by  the  tyranny  of  the  present,  and  we  were  led  in 
triumph  by  nature. 

These  enchantments  are  medicinal,  they  sober  and 
heal  us.  These  are  plain  pleasures,  kindly  and  native 
to  us.  We  come  to  our  own,  and  make  friends  with 
matter,  which  the  ambitious  chatter  of  the  schools 
would  persuade  us  to  despise.  We  never  can  part 
with  it ;  the  mind  loves  its  old  home  :  as  water  to  our 
thirst,  so  is  the  rock,  the  ground,  to  our  eyes,  and 
hands,  and  feet.  It  is  firm  water :  it  is  cold  flame : 
what  health,  what  affinity!  Ever  an  old  friend,  ever 
like  a  dear  friend  and  brother,  when  we  chat  affect 
edly  with  strangers,  comes  in  this  honest  face,  and 
takes  a  grave  liberty  with  us,  and  shames  us  out  of 
our  nonsense.  Cities  give  not  the  human  senses 
room  enough.  We  go  out  daily  and  nightly  to  feed 
the  eyes  on  the  horizon,  and  require  so  much  scope, 
just  as  we  need  water  for  our  bath.  There  are  all 
degrees  of  natural  influence,  from  these  quarantine 
powers  of  nature,  up  to  her  dearest  and  gravest  min 
istrations  to  the  imagination  and  the  soul.  There  is 
the  bucket  of  cold  water  from  the  spring,  the  wood- 
fire  to  which  the  chilled  traveller  rushes  for  safety,  — 
and  there  is  the  sublime  moral  of  autumn  and  of 
noon.  We  nestle  in  nature,  and  draw  our  living  as 
parasites  from  her  roots  and  grains,  and  we  receive 
glances  from  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  call  us  to 
solitude,  and  foretell  the  remotest  future.  The  blue 
zenith  is  the  point  in  which  romance  and  reality  meet. 
I  think,  if  we  should  be  rapt  away  into  all  that  we 
dream  of  heaven,  and  should  converse  with  Gabriel 
and  Uriel,  the  upper  sky  would  be  all  that  would 
remain  of  our  furniture. 


NATURE.  127 

It  seems  as  if  the  day  was  not  wholly  profane,  in 
which  we  have  given  heed  to  some  natural  object. 
The  fall  of  snowflakes  in  a  still  air,  preserving  to 
each  crystal  its  perfect  form ;  the  blowing  of  sleet 
over  a  wide  sheet  of  water,  and  over  plains,  the  wav 
ing  rye-field,  the  mimic  waving  of  acres  of  hous- 
tonia,  whose  innumerable  florets  whiten  and  ripple 
before  the  eye ;  the  reflections  of  trees  and  flowers 
in  glassy  lakes ;  the  musical  steaming  odorous  south 
wind,  which  converts  all  trees  to  windharps ;  the 
crackling  and  spurting  of  hemlock  in  the  flames; 
or  of  pine  logs,  which  yield  glory  to  the  walls  and 
faces  in  the  sitting-room,  —  these  are  the  music  and 
pictures  of  the  most  ancient  religion.  My  house 
stands  in  low  land,  with  limited  outlook,  and  on  the 
skirt  of  the  village.  Bat  I  go  with  my  friend  to 
the  shore  of  our  little  river ;  and  with  one  stroke  of 
the  paddle,  I  leave  the  village  politics  and  personali 
ties,  yes,  and  the  world  of  villages  and  personalities 
behind,  and  pass  into  a  delicate  realm  of  sunset  and 
moonlight,  too  bright  almost  for  spotted  man  to  enter 
without  noviciate  and  probation.  We  penetrate  bodily 
this  incredible  beauty :  we  dip  our  hands  in  this  painted 
element :  our  eyes  are  bathed  in  these  lights  and  forms. 
A  holiday,  a  villeggiatura,  a  royal  revel,  the  proudest, 
most  heart-rejoicing  festival  that  valor  and  beauty, 
power  and  taste,  ever  decked  and  enjoyed,  estab 
lishes  itself  on  the  instant.  These  sunset  clouds, 
these  delicately  emerging  stars,  with  their  private 
and  ineffable  glances,  signify  it  and  proffer  it.  I  am 
taught  the  poorness  of  our  invention,  the  ugliness  of 
towns  and  palaces.  Art  and  luxury  have  early  learned 


128  NATURE. 

that  they  must  work  as  enchantment  and  sequel  to 
this  original  beauty.  I  am  over-instructed  for  my 
return.  Henceforth  I  shall  be  hard  to  please.  I 
cannot  go  back  to  toys.  I  am  grown  expensive  and 
sophisticated.  I  can  no  longer  live  without  elegance  : 
but  a  countryman  shall  be  my  master  of  revels.  He 
who  knows  the  most,  he  who  knows  what  sweets  and 
virtues  are  in  the  ground,  the  waters,  the  plants,  the 
heavens,  and  how  to  come  at  these  enchantments,  is 
the  rich  and  royal  man.  Only  as  far  as  the  masters 
of  the  world  have  called  in  nature  to  their  aid,  can 
they  reach  the  height  of  magnificence.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  their  hanging-gardens,  villas,  garden- 
houses,  islands,  parks,  and  preserves,  to  back  their 
faulty  personality  with  these  strong  accessories.  I 
do  not  wonder  that  the  landed  interest  should  be 
invincible  in  the  state  with  these  dangerous  aux 
iliaries.  These  bribe  and  invite  ;  not  kings,  not  pal 
aces,  not  men,  not  women,  but  these  tender  and  poetic 
stars,  eloquent  of  secret  promises.  We  heard  what 
the  rich  man  said,  we  knew  of  his  villa,  his  grove, 
his  wine,  and  his  company,  but  the  provocation  and 
point  of  the  invitation  came  out  of  these  beguiling 
stars.  In  their  soft  glances,  I  see  what  men  strove 
to  realize  in  some  Versailles,  or  Paphos,  or  Ctesiphon. 
Indeed,  it  is  the  magical  lights  of  the  horizon,  and 
the  blue  sky  for  the  background,  which  save  all  our 
works  of  art,  which  were  otherwise  bawbles.  When 
the  rich  tax  the  poor  with  servility  and  obsequious 
ness,  they  should  consider  the  effect  of  men  reputed 
to  be  the  possessors  of  nature,  on  imaginative  minds. 
Ah!  if  the  rich  were  rich  as  the  poor  fancy  riches! 


NATURE.  129 

A  boy  hears  a  military  band  play  on  the  field  at  night, 
and  he  has  kings  and  queens,  and  famous  chivalry 
palpably  before  him.  He  hears  the  echoes  of  a  horn 
in  a  hill  country,  in  the  Notch  Mountains,  for  ex 
ample,  which  converts  the  mountains  into  an  yEolian 
harp,  and  this  supernatural  tiralira  restores  to  him 
the  Dorian  mythology,  Apollo,  Diana,  and  all  divine 
hunters  and  huntresses.  Can  a  musical  note  be  so 
lofty,  so  haughtily  beautiful  !  To  the  poor  young 
poet,  thus  fabulous  is  his  picture  of  society ;  he  is 
loyal ;  he  respects  the  rich  ;  they  are  rich  for  the  sake 
of  his  imagination ;  how  poor  his  fancy  would  be,  if 
they  were  not  rich  !  That  they  have  some  high- 
fenced  grove,  which  they  call  a  park ;  that  they  live 
in  larger  and  better-garnished  saloons  than  he  has 
visited,  and  go  in  coaches,  keeping  only  the  society 
of  the  elegant,  to  watering-places,  and  to  distant 
cities,  are  the  groundwork  from  which  he  has  deline 
ated  estates  of  romance,  compared  with  which  their 
actual  possessions  are  shanties  and  paddocks.  The 
muse  herself  betrays  her  son,  and  enhances  the  gifts 
of  wealth  and  well-born  beauty,  by  a  radiation  out  of 
the  air,  and  clouds,  and  forests  that  skirt  the  road,  — 
a  certain  haughty  favor,  as  if  from  patrician  genii  to 
patricians,  a  kind  of  aristocracy  in  nature,  a  prince  of 
the  power  of  the  air. 

The  moral  sensibility  which  makes  Edens  and 
Tempes  so  easily,  may  not  be  always  found,  but  the 
material  landscape  is  never  far  off.  We  can  find 
these  enchantments  without  visiting  the  Como  Lake, 
or  the  Madeira  Islands.  We  exaggerate  the  praises 
of  local  scenery.  In  every  landscape,  the  point  of 


130  NATURE. 

astonishment  is  the  meeting  of  the  sky  and  the 
earth,  and  that  is  seen  from  the  first  hillock  as  well 
as  from  the  top  of  the  Alleghanies.  The  stars  at 
night  stoop  down  over  the  brownest,  homeliest  com 
mon,  with  all  the  spiritual  magnificence  which  th?y 
shed  on  the  Campagna,  or  on  the  marble  deserts  of 
Egypt.  The  uprolled  clouds  and  the  colors  of  morn 
ing  and  evening,  will  transfigure  maples  and  alders. 
The  difference  between  landscape  and  landscape  is 
small,  but  there  is  great  difference  in  the  beholders. 
There  is  nothing  so  wonderful  in  any  particular  land 
scape,  as  the  necessity  of  being  beautiful  under  which 
every  landscape  lies.  Nature  cannot  be  surprised  in 
undress.  Beauty  breaks  in  everywhere. 

But  it  is  very  easy  to  outrun  the  sympathy  of  read 
ers  on  this  topic,  which  schoolmen  called  natiira 
naturata,  or  nature  passive.  One  can  hardly  speak 
directly  of  it  without  excess.  It  is  as  easy  to  broach 
in  mixed  companies  what  is  called  "  the  subject  of 
religion.''  A  susceptible  person  does  not  like  to  in 
dulge  his  tastes  in  this  kind,  without  the  apology  of 
some  trivial  necessity :  he  goes  to  see  a  wood-lot,  or 
to  look  at  the  crops,  or  to  fetch  a  plant  or  a  mineral 
from  a  remote  locality,  or  he  carries  a  fowling-piece, 
or  a  fishing-rod.  I  suppose  this  shame  must  have  a 
good  reason.  A  dilettantism  in  nature  is  barren  and 
unworthy.  The  fop  of  fields  is  no  better  than  his 
brother  of  Broadway.  Men  are  naturally  hunters  and 
inquisitive  of  wood-craft,  arid  I  suppose  that  such  a 
gazetteer  as  wood-cutters  and  Indians  should  furnish 
facts  for,  would  take  place  in  the  most  sumptuous 
drawing-rooms  of  all  the  "Wreaths"  and  "Flora's 


NATURE.  131 

chaplets  "  of  the  book-shops  ;  yet  ordinarily,  whether 
we  are  too  clumsy  for  so  subtle  a  topic,  or  from  what 
ever  cause,  as  soon  as  men  begin  to  write  on  nature, 
they  fall  into  euphuism.  Frivolity  is  a  most  unfit 
tribute  to  Pan,  who  ought  to  be  represented  in  the 
mythology  as  the  most  continent  of  gods.  I  would 
not  be  frivolous  before  the  admirable  reserve  and 
prudence  of  time,  yet  I  cannot  renounce  the  right  t)f 
returning  often  to  this  old  topic.  The  multitude  of 
false  churches  accredits  the  true  religion.  Literature, 
poetry,  science,  are  the  homage  of  man  to  this  un- 
fathomed  secret,  concerning  which  no  sane  man  can 
affect  an  indifference  or  incuriosity.  Nature  is  loved 
by  what  is  best  in  us.  It  is  loved  as  the  city  of  God, 
although,  or  rather  because  there  is  no  citizen.  The 
sunset  is  unlike  anything  that  is  underneath  it :  it 
wants  men.  And  the  beauty  of  nature  must  always 
seem  unreal  and  mocking,  until  the  landscape  has 
human  figures,  that  are  as  good  as  itself.  If  there 
were  good  men,  there  would  never  be  this  rapture  in 
nature.  If  the  king  is  in  the  palace,  nobody  looks  at 
the  walls.  It  is  when  he  is  gone,  and  the  house  is 
filled  with  grooms  and  gazers,  that  we  turn  from  the 
people,  to  find  relief  in  the  majestic  men  that  are 
suggested  by  the  pictures  and  the  architecture.  The 
critics  who  complain  of  the  sickly  separation  of  the 
beauty  of  nature  from  the  thing  to  be  done,  must 
consider  that  our  hunting  of  the  picturesque  is  insep 
arable  from  our  protest  against  false  society.  Man  is 
fallen ;  nature  is  erect,  and  serves  as  a  differential 
thermometer,  detecting  the  presence  or  absence  of 
the  divine  sentiment  in  man.  By  fault  of  our  dul- 


I32  NATURE. 

.ness  and  selfishness,  we  are  looking  up  to  nature,  but 
when  we  are  convalescent,  nature  will  look  up  to  us. 
We  see  the  foaming  brook  with  compunction  :  if  our 
own  life  flowed  with  the  right  energy,  we  should 
shame  the  brook.  The  stream  of  zeal  sparkles  with 
real  fire,  and  not  with  reflex  rays  of  sun  and  moon. 
Nature  may  be  as  selfishly  studied  as  trade.  Astron 
omy  to  the  selfish  becomes  astrology.  Psychology, 
mesmerism  (with  intent  to  show  where  our  spoons 
are  gone)  ;  and  anatomy  and  physiology,  become 
phrenology  and  palmistry. 

But  taking  timely  warning,  and  leaving  many  things 
unsaid  on  this  topic,  let  us  not  longer  omit  our  hom 
age  to  the  Efficient  Nature,  natura  naturans,  the 
quick  cause,  before  which  all  forms  flee  as  the  driven 
snows,  itself  secret,  its  works  driven  before  it  in  flocks 
and  multitudes,  (as  the  ancient  represented  nature  by 
Proteus,  a  shepherd,)  and  in  undescribable  variety. 
It  publishes  itself  in  creatures,  reaching  from  particles 
and  spicula,  through  transformation  on  transforma 
tion  to  the  highest  symmetries,  arriving  at  consum 
mate  results  without  a  shock  or  a  leap.  A  little  heat, 
that  is,  a  little  motion,  is  all  that  differences  the  bald, 
dazzling  white,  and  deadly  cold  poles  of  the  earth 
from  the  prolific  tropical  climates.  All  changes  pass 
without  violence,  by  reason  of  the  two  cardinal  con 
ditions  of  boundless  space  and  boundless  time. 
Geology  has  initiated  us  into  the  secularity  of  nature, 
and  taught  us  to  disuse  our  dame-school  measures, 
and  exchange  our  Mosaic  and  Ptolemaic  schemes  for 
her  large  style.  We  knew  nothing  rightly,  for  want 
of  perspective.  Now  we  learn  what  patient  periods 


NATURE.  133 

must  round  themselves  before  the  rock  is  formed, 
then  before  the  rock  is  broken,  and  the  first  lichen 
race  has  disintegrated  the  thinnest  external  plate 
into  soil,  and  opened  the  door  for  the  remote  Flora, 
Fauna,  Ceres,  and  Pomona,  to  come  in.  How  far 
off  yet  is  the  trilobite  !  how  far  the  quadruped  !  how 
inconceivably  remote  is  man  !  All  duly  arrive,  and 
then  race  after  race  of  men.  It  is  a  long  way  from 
granite  to  the  oyster ;  farther  yet  to  Plato,  and  the 
preaching  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Yet  all 
must  come,  as  surely  as  the  first  atom  has  two  sides. 

Motion  or  change,  and  identity  or  rest,  are  the 
first  and  second  secrets  of  nature :  Motion  and 
Rest.  The  whole  code  of  her  laws  may  be  written 
on  the  thumbnail,  or  the  signet  of  a  ring.  The 
whirling  bubble  on  the  surface  of  a  brook,  admits 
us  to  the  secret  of  the  mechanics  of  the  sky.  Every 
shell  on  the  beach  is  a  key  to  it.  A  little  water 
made  to  rotate  in  a  cup  explains  the  formation  of 
the  simpler  shells ;  the  addition  of  matter  from  year 
to  year,  arrives  at  last  at  the  most  complex  form ; 
and  yet  so  poor  is  nature  with  all  her  craft,  that, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  universe,  she 
has  but  one  stuff,  — but  one  stuff  with  its  two  ends, 
to  serve  up  all  her  dream-like  variety.  Compound  it 
how  she  will,  star,  sand,  fire,  water,  tree,  man,  it  is 
still  one  stuff,  and  betrays  the  same  properties. 

Nature  is  always  consistent,  though  she  feigns  to 
contravene  her  own  laws.  She  keeps  her  laws,  and 
seems  to  transcend  them.  She  arms  and  equips  an 
animal  to  find  its  place  and  living  in  the  earth,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  she  arms  and  equips  another  ani- 


134  NATURE. 

mal  to  destroy  it.  Space  exists  to  divide  creatures ; 
but  by  clothing  the  sides  of  a  bird  with  a  few  feath 
ers,  she  gives  him  a  petty  omnipresence.  The  di 
rection  is  forever  onward,  but  the  artist  still  goes 
back  for  materials,  and  begins  again  with  the  first 
elements  on  the  most  advanced  stage :  otherwise, 
all  goes  to  ruin.  If  we  look  at  her  work,  we  seem 
to  catch  a  glance  of  a  system  in  transition.  Plants 
are  the  young  of  the  world,  vessels  of  health  and 
vigor ;  but  they  grope  ever  upward  toward  conscious 
ness  ;  the  trees  are  imperfect  men,  and  seem  to  be 
moan  their  imprisonment,  rooted  in  the  ground. 
The  animal  is  the  novice  and  probationer  of  a  more 
advanced  order.  The  men,  though  young,  having 
tasted  the  first  drop  from  the  cup  of  thought,  are 
already  dissipated :  the  maples  and  ferns  are  still 
uncorrupt;  yet  no  doubt,  when  they  come  to  con 
sciousness,  they  too  will  curse  and  swear.  Flowers 
so  strictly  belong  to  youth,  that  we  adult  men  soon 
come  to  feel,  that  their  beautiful  generations  concern 
not  us :  we  have  had  our  day ;  now  let  the  children 
have  theirs.  The  flowers  jilt  us,  and  we  are  old 
bachelors  with  our  ridiculous  tenderness. 

Things  are  so  strictly  related,  that  according  to  the 
skill  of  the  eye,  from  any  one  object  the  parts  and 
properties  of  any  other  may  be  predicted.  If  we 
had  eyes  to  see  it,  a  bit  of  stone  from  the  city  wall 
would  certify  us  of  the  necessity  that  man  must 
exist,  as  readily  as  the  city.  That  identity  makes  us 
all  one,  and  reduces  to  nothing  great  intervals  on 
our  customary  scale.  We  talk  of  deviations  from 
natural  life,  as  if  artificial  life  were  not  also  natural. 


NATURE.  135 

The  smoothest  curled  courtier  in  the  boudoirs  of  a 
palace  has  an  animal  nature,  rude  and  aboriginal  as 
a  white  bear,  omnipotent  to  its  own  ends,  and  is 
directly  related,  there  amid  essences  and  billets-doux, 
to  Himmaleh  mountain-chains,  and  the  axis  of  the 
globe.  If  we  consider  how  much  we  are  nature^,  we 
need  not  be  superstitious  about  towns,  as  if  that  ter 
rific  or  benefic  force  did  not  find  us  there  also,  and 
fashion  cities.  Nature  who  made  the  mason,  made 
the  house.  We  may  easily  hear  too  much  of  rural 
influences.  The  cool  disengaged  air  of  natural  ob 
jects,  makes  them  enviable  to  us,  chafed  and  irrita 
ble  creatures  with  red  faces,  and  we  think  we  shall  be 
as  grand  as  they,  if  we  camp  out  and  eat  roots ;  but 
let  us  be  men  instead  of  woodchucks,  and  the  oak 
and  the  elm  shall  gladly  serve  us,  though  we  sit  in 
chairs  of  ivory  on  carpets  of  silk. 

This  guilding  identity  runs  through  all  the  sur 
prises  and  contrasts  of  the  piece,  and  characterizes 
every  law.  Man  carries  the  world  in  his  head,  the 
whole  astronomy  and  chemistry  suspended  in  a 
thought.  Because  the  history  of  nature  is  charac 
tered  in  his  brain,  therefore  is  he  the  prophet  and 
discoverer  of  her  secrets.  Every  known  fact  in 
natural  science  was  divined  by  the  presentiment  of 
somebody,  before  it  was  actually  verified.  A  man 
does  not  tie  his  shoe  without  recognizing  laws  which 
bind  the  farthest  regions  of  nature :  moon,  plant, 
gas,  crystal,  are  concrete  geometry  and  numbers. 
Common  sense  knows  its  own,  and  recognizes  the 
the  fact  at  first  sight  in  chemical  experiment.  The 
common  sense  of  Franklin,  Dalton,  Davy,  and  Black, 


136  NATURE. 

is  the  same  common  sense  which  made  the  arrange 
ments  which  now  it  discovers. 

If  the  identity  expresses  organized  rest,  the  coun 
ter  action  runs  also  into  organization.  The  astron 
omers  said,  '  Give  us  matter,  and  a  little  motion, 
and  we  will  construct  the  universe.  It  is  not  enough 
that  we  should  have  matter,  we  must  also  have  a 
single  impulse,  one  shove  to  launch  the  mass,  and 
generate  the  harmony  of  the  centrifugal  and  centrip 
etal  forces.  Once  heave  the  ball  from  the  hand, 
and  we  can  show  how  all  this  mighty  order  grew.1  — 
*  A  very  unreasonable  postulate,1  said  the  metaphysi 
cians,  '  and  a  plain  begging  of  the  question.  Could 
you  not  prevail  to  know  the  genesis  of  projection, 
as  well  as  the  continuation  of  it?'  Nature,  mean 
while,  had  not  waited  for  the  discussion,  but,  right 
or  wrong,  bestowed  the  impulse,  and  the  balls  rolled. 
It  was  no  great  affair,  a  mere  push,  but  the  astrono 
mers  were  right  in  making  much  of  it,  for  there  is 
no  end  to  the  consequences  of  the  act.  That  famou 
aboriginal  push  propagates  itself  through  all  th 
balls  of  the  system,  and  through  every  atom  o 
every  ball,  through  all  the  races  of  creatures,  and 
through  the  history  and  performances  of  every  in 
dividual.  Exaggeration  is  in  the  course  of  things. 
Nature  sends  no  creature,  no  man  into  the  world, 
without  adding  a  small  excess  of  his  proper  quality. 
Given  the  planet,  it  is  still  necessary  to  add  the 
impulse ;  so,  to  every  creature  nature  added  a  little 
violence  of  direction  in  its  proper  path,  a  shove  to 
put  it  on  its  way ;  in  every  instance,  a  slight  gener 
osity,  a  drop  too  much.  Without  electricity  the  air 


NATURE.  137 

would  ret,  and  without  this  violence  of  direction, 
which  men  and  women  have,  without  a  spice  of 
bigot  and  fanatic,  no  excitement,  no  efficiency.  We 
aim  above  the  mark,  to  hit  the  mark.  Every  act 
hath  some  falsehood  of  exaggeration  in  it.  And 
when  now  and  then  comes  along  some  sad,  sharp- 
eyed  man,  who  sees  how  paltry  a  game  is  played, 
and  refuses  to  play,  but  blabs  the  secret;  —  how 
then?  is  the  bird  flown?  O  no,  the  wary  Nature 
sends  a  new  troop  of  fairer  forms,  of  lordlier  youths, 
with  a  little  more  excess  of  direction  to  hold  them 
fast  to  their  several  aim  ;  makes  them  a  little  wrong- 
headed  in  that  direction  in  which  they  are  rightest, 
and  on  goes  the  game  again  with  new  whirl,  for  a 
generation  or  two  more.  The  child  with  his  sweet 
pranks,  the  fool  of  his  senses,  commanded  by  every 
sight  and  sound,  without  any  power  to  compare  and 
rank  his  sensations,  abandoned  to  a  whistle  or  a 
painted  chip,  to  a  lead  dragoon,  or  a  gingerbread- 
dog,  individualizing  everything,  generalizing  noth 
ing,  delighted  with  every  new  thing,  lies  down  at 
night  overpowered  by  the  fatigue,  which  this  day  of 
continual  pretty  madness  has  incurred.  But  Nature 
has  answered  her  purpose  with  the  curly,  dimpled 
lunatic.  She  has  tasked  every  faculty,  and  has 
secured  the  symmetrical  growth  of  the  bodily  frame, 
by  all  these  attitudes  and  exertions,  —  an  end  of  the 
first  importance,  which  could  not  be  trusted  to  any 
care  less  perfect  than  her  own.  This  glitter,  this 
opaline  lustre  plays  round  the  top  of  every  toy  to  his 
eye,  to  ensure  his  fidelity,  and  he  is  deceived  to  his 
good.  We  are  made  alive  and  kept  alive  by  the 


138  NATURE. 

same  arts.  Let  the  stoics  say  what  they  please,  we 
do  not  eat  for  the  good  of  living,  but  because  the 
meat  is  savory  and  the  appetite  is  keen.  The  vege 
table  life  does  not  content  itself  with  casting  from 
the  flower  or  the  tree  a  single  seed,  but  it  fills 
the  air  and  earth  with  a  prodigality  of  seeds,  that, 
if  thousands  perish,  thousands  may  plant  themselves, 
that  hundreds  may  come  up,  that  tens  may  live  to 
maturity,  that,  at  least,  one  may  replace  the  parent. 
All  things  betray  the  same  calculated  profusion. 
The  excess  of  fear  with  which  the  animal  frame  is 
hedged  round,  shrinking  from  cold,  starting  at  sight 
of  a  snake,  or  at  a  sudden  noise,  protects  us,  through 
a  multitude  of  groundless  alarms,  from  some  one 
real  danger  at  last.  The  lover  seeks  in  marriage  his 
private  felicity  and  perfection,  with  no  prospective 
end ;  and  nature  hides  in  his  happiness  her  own  end, 
namely,  progeny,  or  the  perpetuity  of  the  race. 

But  the  craft  with  which  the  world  is  made,  runs 
also  into  the  mind  and  character  of  men.  No  man  is 
quite  sane ;  each  has  a  vein  of  folly  in  his  composi 
tion,  a  slight  determination  of  blood  to  the  head,  to 
make  sure  of  holding  him  hard  to  some  one  point 
which  nature  had  taken  to  heart.  Great  causes  are 
never  tried  on  their  merits  ;  but  the  cause  is  reduced 
to  particulars  to  suit  the  size  of  the  partisans,  and 
the  contention  is  ever  hottest  on  minor  matters. 
Not  less  remarkable  is  the  overfaith  of  each  man 
in  the  importance  of  what  he  has  to  do  or  say. 
The  poet,  the  prophet,  has  a  higher  value  for  what 
he  utters  than  any  hearer,  and  therefore  it  gets 
spoken.  The  strong,  self-complacent  Luther  declares 


NATURE.  139 

with  an  emphasis,  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  "  God 
himself  cannot  do  without  wise  men."  Jacob  Behmen 
and  George  Fox  betray  their  egotism  in  the  perti 
nacity  of  their  controversial  tracts,  and  James  Naylor 
once  suffered  himself  to  be  worshipped  as  the  Christ. 
Each  prophet  comes  presently  to  identify  himself 
with  his  thought,  and  to  esteem  his  hat  and  shoes 
sacred.  However  this  may  discredit  such  persons 
with  the  judicious,  it  helps  them  with  the  people,  as 
it  gives  heat,  pungency,  and  publicity  to  their  words. 
A  similar  experience  is  not  infrequent  in  private  life. 
Each  young  and  ardent  person  writes  a  diary,  in 
which,  when  the  hours  of  prayer  and  penitence  arrive, 
he  inscribes  his  soul.  The  pages  thus  written  are,  to 
him,  burning  and  fragrant :  he  reads  them  on  his 
knees  by  midnight  and  by  the  morning  star ;  he  wets 
them  with  his  tears :  they  are  sacred ;  too  good  for 
the  world,  and  hardly  yet  to  be  shown  to  the  dearest 
friend.  This  is  the  man-child  that  is  born  to  the 
soul,  and  her  life  still  circulates  in  the  babe.  The 
umbilical  cord  has  not  yet  been  cut.  After  some  time 
has  elapsed,  he  begins  to  wish  to  admit  his  friend  to 
this  hallowed  experience,  and  with  hesitation,  yet 
with  firmness,  exposes  the  pages  to  his  eye.  Will 
they  not  burn  his  eyes  ?  The  friend  coldly  turns  them 
over,  and  passes  from  the  writing  to  conversation, 
with  easy  transition,  which  strikes  the  other  party 
with  astonishment  and  vexation.  He  cannot  suspect 
the  writing  itself.  Days  and  nights  of  fervid  life,  of 
communion  with  angels  of  darkness  and  of  light, 
have  engraved  their  shadowy  characters  on  that  tear- 
stained  book.  He  suspects  the  intelligence  or  the 


140  NATURE. 

heart  of  his  friend.  Is  there  then  no  friend?  He 
cannot  yet  credit  that  one  may  have  impressive  expe 
rience,  and  yet  may  not  know  how  to  put  his  private 
fact  into  literature;  and  perhaps  the  discovery  that 
wisdom  has  other  tongues  and  ministers  than  we,  that 
though  we  should  hold  our  peace,  the  truth  would 
not  the  less  be  spoken,  might  check  injuriously  the 
flames  of  our  zeal.  A  man  can  only  speak,  so  long 
as  he  does  not  feel  his  speech  to  be  partial  and  inade 
quate.  It  is  partial,  but  he  does  not  see  it  to  be  so, 
whilst  he  utters  it.  As  soon  as  he  is  released  from 
the  instinctive  and  particular,  and  sees  its  partiality, 
he  shuts  his  mouth  in  disgust.  For,  no  man  can  write 
anything,  who  does  not  think  that  what  he  writes 
is  for  the  time  the  history  of  the  world ;  or  do  any 
thing  well,  who  does  not  esteem  his  work  to  be  of 
importance.  My  work  may  be  of  none,  but  I  must 
not  think  it  of  none,  or  I  shall  not  do  it  with  im 
punity. 

In  like  manner,  there  is  throughout  nature  some 
thing  mocking,  something  that  leads  us  on  and  on, 
but  arrives  nowhere,  keeps  no  faith  with  us.  All 
promise  outruns  the  performance.  We  live  in  a  sys 
tem  of  approximations.  Every  end  is  prospective  of 
some  other  end,  which  is  also  temporary ;  a  round  and 
final  success  nowhere.  We  are  encamped  in  nature, 
not  domesticated.  Hunger  and  thirst  lead  us  on  to 
eat  and  to  drink  ;  but  bread  and  wine,  mix  and  cook 
them  how  you  will,  leave  us  hungry  and  thirsty,  after 
the  stomach  is  full.  It  is  the  same  with  all  our  aits 
and  performances.  Our  music,  our  poetry,  our  lan 
guage  itself  are  not  satisfactions,  but  suggestions. 


NATURE.  141 

The  hunger  for  wealth,  which  reduces  the  planet  to  a 
garden,  fools  the  eager  pursuer.  What  is  the  end 
sought?  Plainly  to  secure  the  ends  of  good  sense 
and  beauty,  from  the  intrusion  of  deformity  or  vul 
garity  of  any  kind.  But  what  an  operose  method! 
What  a  train  of  means  to  secure  a  little  conversation! 
This  palace  of  brick  and  stone,  these  servants,  this 
kitchen,  these  stables,  horses  and  equipage,  this 
bank-stock,  and  file  of  mortgages ;  trade  to  all  the 
world,  country-house  and  cottage  by  the  waterside,  all 
for  a  little  conversation,  high,  clear,  and  spiritual! 
Could  it  not  be  had  as  well  by  beggars  on  the  high 
way?  No,  all  these  things  came  from  successive 
efforts  of  these  beggars  to  remove  friction  from  the 
wheels  of  life,  and  give  opportunity.  Conversation, 
character,  were  the  avowed  ends ;  wealth  was  good 
as  it  appeased  the  animal  cravings,  cured  the  smoky 
chimney,  silenced  the  creaking  door,  brought  friends 
together  in  a  warm  and  quiet  room,  and  kept  the 
children  and  the  dinner-table  in  a  different  apartment. 
Thought,  virtue,  beauty,  were  the  ends ;  but  it  was 
known  that  men  of  thought  and  virtue  sometimes  had 
the  headache,  or  wet  feet,  or  could  lose  good  time 
whilst  the  room  was  getting  warm  in  winter  days. 
Unluckily,  in  the  exertions  necessary  to  remove  these 
inconveniences,  the  main  attention  has  been  diverted 
to  this  object ;  the  old  aims  have  been  lost  sight  of, 
and  to  remove  friction  has  come  to  be  the  end.  That 
is  the  ridicule  of  rich  men,  and  Boston,  London, 
Vienna,  and  now  the  governments  generally  of  the 
world,  are  cities  and  governments  of  the  rich,  and 
the  masses  are  not  men,  but  poor  men,  that  is,  men 


142  NA  l^URE. 

who  would  be  rich  ;  this  is  the  ridicule  of  the  class, 
that  they  arrive  with  pains  and  sweat  and  fury  no 
where  ;  when  all  is  done,  it  is  for  nothing.  They  are 
like  one  who  has  interrupted  the  conversation  of  a 
company  to  make  his  speech,  and  now  has  forgotten 
what  he  went  to  say.  The  appearance  strikes  the  eye 
everywhere  of  an  aimless  society,  of  aimless  nations. 
Were  the  ends  of  nature  so  great  and  cogent,  as  to 
exact  this  immense  sacrifice  of  men  ? 

Quite  analogous  to  the  deceits  in  life,  there  is,  as 
might  be  expected,  a  similar  effect  on  the  eye  from 
the  face  of  external  nature.  There  is  in  woods  and 
waters  a  certain  enticement  and  flattery,  together 
with  a  failure  to  yield  a  present  satisfaction.  This 
disappointment  is  felt  in  every  landscape.  I  have 
seen  the  softness  and  beauty  of  the  summer-clouds 
floating  feathery  overhead,  enjoying,  as  it  seemed, 
their  height  and  privilege  of  motion,  whilst  yet  they 
appeared  not  so  much  the  drapery  of  this  place  and 
hour,  as  for  looking  to  some  pavilions  and  gardens  of 
festivity  beyond.  It  is  an  odd  jealousy :  but  the  poet 
finds  himself  not  near  enough  to  his  object.  The 
pine-tree,  the  river,  the  bank  of  flowers  before  him, 
does  not  seem  to  be  nature.  Nature  is  still  else 
where.  This  or  this  is  but  outskirt  and  far-off  reflec 
tion  and  echo  of  the  triumph  that  has  passed  by,  and 
is  now  at  its  glancing  splendor  and  heyday,  perchance 
in  the  neighboring  fields,  or,  if  you  stand  in  the  field, 
then  in  the  adjacent  woods.  The  present  object  shall 
give  you  this  sense  of  stillness  that  follows  a  pageant 
which  has  just  gone  by.  What  splendid  distance, 
what  recesses  of  ineffable  pomp  and  loveliness  in  the 


NATURE.  143 

sunset!  But  who  can  go  where  they  are,  or  lay  his 
hand  or  plant  his  foot  thereon  ?  Off  they  fall  from 
the  round  world  forever  and  ever.  It  is  the  same 
among  the  men  and  women,  as  among  the  silent  trees, 
always  a  referred  existence,  an  absence,  never  a  pres 
ence  and  satisfaction.  Is  it,  that  beauty  can  never 
be  grasped  ?  in  persons  and  in  landscape  is  equally 
inaccessible  ?  The  accepted  and  betrothed  lover  has 
lost  the  wildest  charm  of  his  maiden  in  her  acceptance 
of  him.  She  was  heaven  whilst  he  pursued  her  as  a 
star :  she  cannot  be  heaven,  if  she  stoops  to  such  a 
one  as  he. 

What  shall  we  say  of  this  omnipresent  appearance 
of  that  first  projectile  impulse,  of  this  flattery  and 
balking  of  so  many  well-meaning  creatures?  Must 
we  not  suppose  somewhere  in  the  universe  a  slight 
treachery  and  derision?  Are  we  not  engaged  to  a 
serious  resentment  of  this  use  that  is  made  of  us? 
Are  we  tickled  trout,  and  fools  of  nature?  One  look 
at  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth  lays  all  petulance  at 
rest,  and  soothes  us  to  wiser  convictions.  To  the 
intelligent,  nature  converts  itself  into  a  vast  promise, 
and  will  not  be  rashly  explained.  Her  secret  is 
untold.  Many  and  many  an  QEdipus  arrives  :  he  has 
the  whole  mystery  teeming  in  his  brain.  Alas!  the 
same  sorcery  has  spoiled  his  skill ;  no  syllable  can  he 
shape  on  his  lips.  Her  mighty  orbit  vaults  like  the 
fresh  rainbow  into  the  deep,  but  no  archangel's  wing 
was  yet  strong  enough  to  follow  it,  and  report  of  the 
return  of  the  curve.  But  it  also  appears,  that  our  ac 
tions  are  seconded  and  disposed  to  greater  conclusions 
than  we  designed.  We  are  escorted  on  every  hand 


144  NATURE. 

through  life  by  spiritual  agents,  and  a  beneficent  pur 
pose  lies  in  wait  for  us.  We  cannot  bandy  words 
with  nature,  or  deal  with  her  as  we  deal  with  persons. 
If  we  measure  our  individual  forces  against  hers,  we 
may  easily  feel  as  if  we  were  the  sport  of  an  insuper 
able  destiny.  But  if,  instead  of  identifying  ourselves 
with  the  work,  we  feel  that  the  soul  of  the  workman 
streams  through  us,  we  shall  find  the  peace  of  the 
morning  dwelling  first  in  our  hearts,  and  the  fathom 
less  powers  of  gravity  and  chemistry,  and,  over  them, 
of  life,  pre-existing  within  us  in  their  highest  form. 

The  uneasiness  which  the  thought  of  our  helpless 
ness  in  the  chain  of  causes  occasions  us,  results  from 
looking  too  much  at  one  condition  of  nature,  namely, 
Motion.  But  the  drag  is  never  taken  from  the  wheel. 
Wherever  the  impulse  exceeds,  the  Rest  or  Identity 
insinuates  its  compensation.  All  over  the  wide  fields 
of  earth  grows  the  prunella  or  self-heal.  After  every 
foolish  day  we  sleep  oif  the  fumes  and  furies  of  its 
hours ;  and  though  we  are  always  engaged  with  par 
ticulars,  and  often  enslaved  to  them,  we  bring  with  us 
to  every  experiment  the  innate  universal  laws.  These, 
while  they  exist  in  the  mind  as  ideas,  stand  around  us 
in  nature  forever  embodied,  a  present  sanity  to  expose 
and  cure  the  insanity  of  men.  Our  servitude  to  partic 
ulars  betrays  into  a  hundred  foolish  expectations.  We 
anticipate  a  new  era  from  the  invention  of  a  locomo 
tive,  or  a  balloon ;  the  new  engine  brings  with  it  the 
old  checks.  They  say  that  by  electro-magnetism, 
your  salad  shall  be  grown  from  the  seed,  whilst  your 
fowl  is  roasting  for  dinner:  it  is  a  symbol  of  our 
modern  aims  and  endeavors,  —  of  our  condensation 


NATURE.  145 

and  acceleration  of  objects :  but  nothing  is  gained : 
nature  cannot  be  cheated :  man's  life  is  but  seventy 
salads  long,  grow  they  swift  or  grow  they  slow.  In 
these  checks  and  impossibilities,  however,  we  find 
our  advantage,  not  less  than  in  the  impulses.  Let 
the  victory  fall  where  it  will,  we  are  on  that  side. 
And  the  knowledge  that  we  traverse  the  whole  scale 
of  being,  from  the  centre  to  the  poles  of  nature,  and 
have  some  stake  in  every  possibility,  lends  that  sub 
lime  lustre  to  death,  which  philosophy  and  religion 
have  too  outwardly  and  literally  striven  to  express  in 
the  popular  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
The  reality  is  more  excellent  than  the  report.  Here 
is  no  ruin,  no  discontinuity,  no  spent  ball.  The 
divine  circulations  never  rest  nor  linger.  Nature  is 
the  incarnation  of  a  thought,  and  turns  to  a  thought, 
again,  as  ice  becomes  water  and  gas.  The  world  is 
mind  precipitated,  and  the  volatile  essence  is  forever 
escaping  again  into  the  state  of  free  thought.  Hence 
the  virtue  and  pungency  of  the  influence  on  the  mind, 
of  natural  objects,  whether  inorganic  or  organized. 
Man  imprisoned,  man  crystallized,  man  vegetative, 
speaks  to  man  impersonated.  That  power  which 
does  not  respect  quantity,  which  makes  the  whole  and 
the  particle  its  equal  channel,  delegates  its  smile  to 
the  morning,  and  distils  its  essence  into  every  drop 
of  rain.  Every  moment  instructs,  and  every  object : 
for  wisdom  is  infused  into  every  form.  It  has  been 
poured  into  us  as  blood ;  it  convulsed  us  as  pain ; 
it  slid  into  us  as  pleasure;  it  enveloped  us  in  dull, 
melancholy  days,  or  in  days  of  cheerful  labor;  we 
did  not  guess  its  essence,  until  after  a  long  time. 


ESSAY   VII. 

POLITICS. 

Gold  and  iron  are  good 
To  buy  iron  and  gold ; 
All  earth's  fleece  and  food 
For  their  like  are  sold. 
Boded  Merlin  wise, 
Proved  Napoleon  great,  — 
Nor  kind  nor  coinage  buys 
Aught  above  its  rate. 
Fear,  Craft,  and  Avarice 
Cannot  rear  a  State. 
Out  of  dust  to  build 
What  is  more  than  dust, — 
Walls  Amphion  piled 
Phoebus  stablish  must. 
When  the  Muses  nine 
With  the  Virtues  meet, 
Find  to  their  design 
An  Atlantic  seat, 
By  green  orchard  boughs 
Fended  from  the  heat, 
Where  the  statesman  ploughs 
Furrow  for  the  wheat ; 
When  the  Church  is  social  worth, 
When  the  state-house  is  the  hearth, 
Then  the  perfect  State  is  come, 
The  republican  at  home. 
146 


POLITICS.  147 

IN  dealing  with  the  State,  we  ought  to  remember 
that  its  institutions  are  not  aboriginal,  though  they 
existed  before  we  were  born :  that  they  are  not  su 
perior  to  the  citizen :  that  every  one  of  them  was 
once  the  act  of  a  single  man :  every  law  and  usage 
was  a  man's  expedient  to  meet  a  particular  case ;  that 
they  all  are  imitable,  all  alterable ;  we  may  make  as 
good;  we  may  make  better.  Society  is  an  illusion 
to  the  young  citizen.  It  lies  before  him  in  rigid 
repose,  with  certain  names,  men,  and  institutions, 
rooted  like  oak-trees  to  the  centre,  round  which  all 
arrange  themselves  the  best  they  can.  But  the  old 
statesman  knows  that  society  is  fluid ;  there  are  no 
such  roots  and  centres ;  but  any  particle  may  sud 
denly  become  the  centre  of  the  movement,  and  com 
pel  the  system  to  gyrate  round  it,  as  every  man  of 
strong  will,  like  Pisistratus,  or  Cromwell,  does  for  a 
time,  and  every  man  of  truth,  like  Plato,  or  Paul, 
does  forever.  But  politics  rest  on  necessary  founda 
tions,  and  cannot  be  treated  with  levity.  Republics 
abound  in  young  civilians,  who  believe  that  the  laws 
make  the  city,  that  grave  modifications  of  the  policy 
and  modes  of  living,  and  employments  of  the  popu 
lation,  that  commerce,  education,  and  religion,  may 
be  voted  in  or  out ;  and  that  any  measure,  though  it 
were  absurd,  may  be  imposed  on  a  people,  if  only 
you  can  get  sufficient  voices  to  make  it  a  law.  But 
the  wise  know  that  foolish  legislation  is  a  rope  of 
sand,  which  perishes  in  the  twisting ;  that  the  State 
must  follow,  and  not  lead  the  character  and  progress 
of  the  citizen ;  the  strongest  usurper  is  quickly  got 
rid  of;  and  they  only  who  built  ori  Ideas,  build  for 


148  POLITICS. 

eternity ;  and  that  the  form  of  government  which 
prevails,  is  the  expression  of  what  cultivation  exists 
in  the  population  which  permits  it.  The  law  is  only 
a  memorandum.  We  are  superstitious,  and  esteem 
the  statute  somewhat :  so  much  life  as  it  has  in  the 
character  of  living  men,  is  its  force.  The  statute 
stands  there  to  say,  yesterday  we  agreed  so  and  so, 
but  how  feel  ye  this  article  to-day?  Our  statute  is 
a  currency,  which  we  stamp  with  our  own  portrait : 
it  soon  becomes  unrecognizable,  and  in  process  of 
time  will  return  to  the  mint.  Nature  is  not  demo 
cratic,  nor  limited  monarchical,  but  despotic,  and 
will  not  be  fooled  or  abated  of  any  jot  of  her  au 
thority,  by  the  pertest  of  her  sons :  and  as  fast 
as  the  public  mind  is  opened  to  more  intelligence, 
the  code  is  seen  to  be  brute  and  stammering.  It 
speaks  not  articulately,  and  must  be  made  to.  Mean 
time  the  education  of  the  general  mind  never  stops. 
The  reveries  of  the  true  and  simple  are  prophetic. 
What  the  tender  poetic  youth  dreams,  and  prays, 
and  paints  to-day,  but  shuns  the  ridicule  of  say 
ing  aloud,  shall  presently  be  the  resolutions  of  pub 
lic  bodies,  then  shall  be  carried  as  grievance  and 
bill  of  rights  through  conflict  and  war,  and  then 
shall  be  triumphant  law  and  establishment  for  a 
hundred  years,  until  it  gives  place,  in  turn,  to  new 
prayers  and  pictures.  The  history  of  the  State 
sketches  in  coarse  outline  the  progress  of  thought, 
and  follows  at  a  distance  the  delicacy  of  culture  and 
of  aspiration. 

The  theory  of  politics,  which   has  possessed' the 
mind  of  men,  and  which  they  have  expressed  the 


POLITICS.  149 

best  they  could  in  their  laws  and  in  their  revolutions, 
considers  persons  and  property  as  the  two  objects 
for  whose  protection  government  exists.  Of  per 
sons,  all  have  equal  rights,  in  virtue  of  being  iden 
tical  in  nature.  This  interest,  of  course,  with  its 
whole  power  demands  a  democracy.  Whilst  the 
rights  of  all  as  persons  are  equal,  in  virtue  of  their 
access  to  reason,  their  rights  in  property  are  very 
unequal.  One  man  owns  his  clothes,  and  another 
owns  a  county.  This  accident,  depending,  prima 
rily,  on  the  skill  and  virtue  of  the  parties,  of  which 
there  is  every  degree,  and  secondarily,  on  patri 
mony,  falls  unequally,  and  its  rights,  of  course,  are 
unequal.  Personal  rights,  universally  the  same,  de 
mand  a  government  framed  on  the  ratio  of  the  cen 
sus  :  property  demands  a  government  framed  on  the 
ratio  of  owners  and  of  owning.  Laban,  who  has 
flocks  and  herds,  wishes  them  looked  after  by  an 
officer  on  the  frontiers,  lest  the  Midianites  shall 
drive  them  off,  and  pays  a  tax  to  that  end.  Jacob 
has  no  flocks  or  herds,  and  no  fear  of  the  Midianites, 
and'  pays  no  tax  to  the  officer.  It  seemed  fit  that 
Laban  and  Jacob  should  have  equal  rights  to  elect 
the  officer,  who  is  to  defend  their  persons,  but  that 
Laban  and  not  Jacob,  should  elect  the  officer  who 
is  to  guard  the  sheep  and  cattle.  And,  if  question 
arise  whether  additional  officers  or  watch-towers 
should  be  provided,  must  not  Laban  and  Isaac,  and 
those  who  must  sell  part  of  their  herds  to  buy  pro 
tection  for  the  rest,  judge  better  of  this,  and  with 
more  right,  than  Jacob,  who,  because  he  is  a  youth 
and  a  traveller,  eats  their  bread  and  not  his  own  ? 


150  POLITICS. 

In  the  earliest  society  the  proprietors  made  their 
own  wealth,  and  so  long  as  it  comes  to  the  owners  in 
the  direct  way,  no  other  opinion  would  arise  in  any 
equitable  community,  than  that  property  should  make 
the  law  for  property,  and  persons  the  law  for  persons. 

But  property  passes  through  donation  or  inheri 
tance  to  those  who  do  not  create  it.  Gift,  in  one  case, 
makes  it  as  really  the  new  owner's,  as  labor  made  it 
the  first  owner's  :  in  the  other  case,  of  patrimony,  the 
law  makes  an  ownership,  which  will  be  valid  in  each 
man's  view  according  to  the  estimate  which  he  sets 
on  the  public  tranquillity. 

It  was  not,  however,  found  easy  to  embody  the 
readily  admitted  principle,  that  property  should  make 
law  for  property,  and  persons  for  persons  :  since  per 
sons  and  property  mixed  themselves  in  every  trans 
action.  At  last  it  seems  settled,  that  the  rightful 
distinction  was,  that  the  proprietors  should  have 
more  elective  franchise  than  non-proprietors,  on  the 
Spartan  principle  of  "  calling  that  which  is  just, 
equal ;  not  that  which  is  equal,  just." 

That  principle  no  longer  looks  so  self  evident  as 
it  appeared  in  former  times,  partly,  because  doubts 
have  arisen  whether  too  much  weight  had  not  been 
allowed  in  the  laws,  to  property,  and  such  a  structure 
given  to  our  usages,  as  allowed  the  rich  to  encroach 
on  the  poor,  and  to  keep  them  poor ;  but  mainly, 
because  there  is  an  instinctive  sense,  however  obscure 
and  yet  inarticulate,  that  the  whole  constitution  of 
property,  on  its  present  tenures,  is  injurious,  and  its 
influence  on  persons  deteriorating  and  degrading ; 
that  truly,  the  only  interest  for  the  consideration  of 


POLITICS.  151 

the  State,  is  persons  ;  that  property  will  always  follow 
persons ;  that  the  highest  end  of  government  is  the 
culture  of  men :  and  if  men  can  be  educated,  the  in 
stitutions  will  share  their  improvement,  and  the  moral 
sentiment  will  write  the  law  of  the  land. 

If  it  be  not  easy  to  settle  the  equity  of  this  ques 
tion,  the  peril  is  less  when  we  take  note  of  our  natural 
defences.  We  are  kept  by  better  guards  than  the 
vigilance  of  such  magistrates  as  we  commonly  elect. 
Society  always  consists,  in  greatest  part,  of  young  and 
foolish  persons.  The  old,  who  have  seen  through 
the  hypocrisy  of  courts  and  statesmen,  die,  and  leave 
no  wisdom  to  their  sons.  They  believe  their  own 
newspaper,  as  their  fathers  did  at  their  age.  With 
such  an  ignorant  and  deceivable  majority,  States 
would  soon  run  to  ruin,  but  that  there  are  limitations 
beyond  which  the  folly  and  ambition  of  governors 
cannot  go.  Things  have  their  laws,  as  well  as  men ; 
and  things  refuse  to  be  trifled  with.  Property  will  be 
protected.  Corn  will  not  grow,  unless  it  is  planted 
and  manured  ;  but  the  farmer  will  not  plant  or  hoe  it, 
unless  the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one,  that  he  will 
cut  and  harvest  it.  Under  any  forms,  persons  and 
property  must  and  will  have  their  just  sway.  They 
exert  their  power,  as  steadily  as  matter  its  attraction. 
Cover  up  a  pound  of  earth  never  so  cunningly,  divide 
and  subdivide  it ;  melt  it  to  liquid,  convert  it  to  gas  ; 
it  will  always  weigh  a  pound :  it  will  always  attract 
and  resist  other  matter,  by  the  full  virtue  of  one  pound 
weight ;  —  and  the  attributes  of  a  person,  his  wit  and 
his  moral  energy,  will  exercise,  under  any  law  or 
extinguishing  tyranny,  their  proper  force,  —  if  not 


152  POLITICS. 

overtly,  then  covertly ;  if  not  for  the  law,  then  against 
it ;  with  right,  or  by  might. 

The  boundaries  of  personal  influence  it  is  impos 
sible  to  fix,  as  persons  are  organs  of  moral  or  su 
pernatural  force.  Under  the  dominion  of  an  idea, 
which  possesses  the  minds  of  multitudes,  as  civil 
freedom,  or  the  religious  sentiment,  the  powers  of 
persons  are  no  longer  subjects  of  calculation.  A  na 
tion  of  men  unanimously  bent  on  freedom,  or  con 
quest,  can  easily  confound  the  arithmetic  of  statists, 
and  achieve  extravagant  actions,  out  of  all  propor 
tion  to  their  means ;  as,  the  Greeks,  the  Saracens, 
the  Swiss,  the  Americans,  and  the  French  have 
done. 

In  like  manner,  to  every  particle  of  property 
belongs  its  own  attraction.  A  cent  is  the  represen 
tative  of  a  certain  quantity  of  corn  or  other  commod 
ity.  Its  value  is  in  the  necessities  of  the  animal 
man.  It  is  so  much  warmth,  so  much  bread,  so 
much  water,  so  much  land.  The  law  may  do  what 
it  will  with  the  owner  of  property,  its  just  power 
will  still  attach  to  the  cent.  The  law  may  in  a  mad 
freak  say,  that  all  shall  have  power  except  the  own 
ers  of  property:  they  shall  have  no  vote.  Never 
theless,  by  a  higher  law,  the  property  will,  year  after 
year,  write  every  statute  that  respects  property.  The 
non-proprietor  will  be  the  scribe  of  the  proprietor. 
What  the  owners  wish  to  do,  the  whole  power  of 
property  will  do,  either  through  the  law,  or  else 
in  defiance  of  it.  Of  course,  I  speak  of  all  the  prop 
erty,  not  merely  of  the  great  estates.  When  the 
rich  are  outvoted,  as  frequently  happens,  it  is  the 


POLITICS.  153 

joint  treasury  of  the  poor  which  exceeds  their  accu 
mulations.  Every  man  owns  something,  if  it  is  only 
a  cow,  or  a  wheelbarrow,  or  his  arms,  and  so  has 
that  property  to  dispose  of. 

The  same  necessity  which  secures  the  rights  of 
person  and  property  against  the  malignity  or  folly 
of  the  magistrate,  determines  the  form  and  meth 
ods  of  governing,  which  are  proper  to  each  nation, 
and  to  its  habit  of  thought,  and  nowise  transferable 
to  other  states  of  society.  In  this  country,  we  are 
very  vain  of  our  political  institutions,  which  are 
singular  in  this,  that  they  sprung,  within  the  mem 
ory  of  living  men,  from  the  character  and  condition 
of  the  people,  which  they  still  express  with  suffi 
cient  fidelity,  —  and  we  ostentatiously  prefer  them 
to  any  other  in  history.  They  are  not  better,  but 
only  fitter  for  us.  We  may  be  wise  in  asserting  the 
advantage  in  modern  times  of  the  democratic  form, 
but  to  other  states  of  society,  in  which  religion  con 
secrated  the  monarchical,  that  and  not  this  was  ex 
pedient.  Democracy  is  better  for  us,  because  the 
religious  sentiment  of  the  present  time  accords  bet 
ter  with  it.  Born  democrats,  we  are  nowise  quali 
fied  to  judge  of  monarchy,  which,  to  our  fathers 
living  in  the  monarchical  idea,  was  also  relatively 
right.  But  our  institutions,  though  in  coincidence 
with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  have  not  any  exemption 
from  the  practical  defects  which  have  discredited 
other  forms.  Every  actual  State  is  corrupt.  Good 
men  must  not  obey  the  laws  too  well.  What  satire 
on  government  can  equal  the  severity  of  censure 
conveyed  in  the  word  politic,  which  now  for  ages 


154  POLITICS. 

has  signified  cunning,  intimating  that  the  State  is  a 
trick? 

The  same  benign  necessity  and  the  same  practi 
cal  abuse  appear  in  the  parties  into  which  each 
State  divides  itself,  of  opponents  and  defenders  of 
the  administration  of  the  government.  Parties  are 
also  founded  on  instincts,  and  have  better  guides  to 
their  own  humble  aims  than  the  sagacity  of  their 
leaders.  They  have  nothing  perverse  in  their  ori 
gin,  but  rudely  mark  some  real  and  lasting  relation. 
We  might  as  wisely  reprove  the  east  wind,  or  the 
frost,  as  a  political  party,  whose  members,  for  the 
most  part,  could  give  no  account  of  their  position, 
but  stand  for  the  defence  of  those  interests  in 
which  they  find  themselves.  Our  quarrel  with  them 
begins,  when  they  quit  this  deep  natural  ground 
at  the  bidding  of  some  leader,  and,  obeying  per 
sonal  considerations,  throw  themselves  into  the  main 
tenance  and  defence  of  points,  nowise  belonging  to 
their  system.  A  party  is  perpetually  corrupted  by 
personality.  Whilst  we  absolve  the  association  from 
dishonesty,  we  cannot  extend  the  same  character  to 
their  leaders.  They  reap  the  rewards  of  the  docility 
and  zeal  of  the  masses  which  they  direct.  Ordina 
rily,  our  parties  are  parties  of  circumstance,  and  not 
of  principle ;  as,  the  planting  interest  in  conflict 
with  the  commercial ;  the  party  of  capitalists,  and 
that  of  operatives;  parties  which  are  indentical  in 
their  moral  character,  and  which  can  easily  change 
ground  with  each  other,  in  the  support  of  many  of 
their  measures.  Parties  of  principle,  as,  religious 
sects,  or  the  party  of  free-trade,  of  universal  suffrage, 


POLITICS.  155 

of  abolition  of  slavery,  of  abolition  of  capital  punish 
ment,  degenerate  into  personalities,  or  would  inspire 
enthusiasm.  The  vice  of  our  leading  parties  in  this 
country  (which  may  be  cited  as  a  fair  specimen  of 
these  societies  of  opinion)  is,  that  they  do  not  plant 
themselves  on  the  deep  and  necessary  grounds  to 
which  they  are  respectively  entitled,  but  lash  them 
selves  to  fury  in  the  carrying  of  some  local  and 
momentary  measure,  nowise  useful  to  the  common 
wealth.  Of  the  two  great  parties,  which,  at  this 
hour,  almost  share  the  nation  between  them,  I  should 
say,  that,  one  has  the  best  cause,  and  the  other  con 
tains  the  best  men.  The  philosopher,  the  poet,  or 
the  religious  man,  will  of  course,  wish  to  cast  his 
vote  with  the  democrat,  for  free-trade,  for  wide  suf 
frage,  for  the  abolition  of  legal  cruelties  in  the  penal 
code,  and  for  facilitating  in  every  manner  the  access 
of  the  young  and  the  poor  to  the  sources  of  wealth 
and  power.  But  he  can  rarely  accept  the  persons 
whom  the  so-called  popular  party  propose  to  him  as 
representatives  of  these  liberalities.  They  have  not 
at  heart  the  ends  which  give  to  the  name  of  democ 
racy  what  hope  and  virtue  are  in  it.  The  spirit  of 
our  American  radicalism  is  destructive  and  aimless : 
it  is  not  loving,  it  has  no  ulterior  and  divine  ends ; 
but  is  destructive  only  out  of  hatred  and  selfishness. 
On  the  other  side,  the  conservative  party,  composed 
of  the  most  moderate,  able,  and  cultivated  part  of  the 
population,  is  timid,  and  merely  defensive  of  prop 
erty.  It  vindicates  no  right,  it  aspires  to  no  real 
good,  it  brands  no  crime,  it  proposes  no  generous 
policy,  it  does  not  build,  nor  write,  nor  cherish  the 


156  POLITICS. 

arts,  nor  foster  religion,  nor  establish  schools,  nor  en 
courage  science,  nor  emancipate  the  slave,  nor  be 
friend  the  poor,  or  the  Indian,  or  the  immigrant. 
From  neither  party,  when  in  power,  has  the  world 
any  benefit  to  expect  in  science,  art,  or  humanity, 
at  all  commensurate  with  the  resources  of  the  na 
tion. 

I  do  not  for  these  defects  despair  of  our  republic. 
We  are  not  at  the  mercy  of  any  waves  of  chance. 
In  the  strife  of  ferocious  parties,  human  nature  always 
finds  itself  cherished,  as  the  children  of  the  convicts 
at  Botany  Bay  are  found  to  have  as  healthy  a  moral 
sentiment  as  other  children.  Citizens  of  feudal  states 
are  alarmed  at  our  democratic  institutions  lapsing 
into  anarchy ;  and  the  older  and  more  cautious  among 
ourselves  are  learning  from  Europeans  to  look  with 
some  terror  at  our  turbulent  freedom.  It  is  said 
that  in  our  license  of  construing  the  Constitution, 
and  in  the  despotism  of  public  opinion,  we  have  no 
anchor;  and  one  foreign  observer  thinks  he  has 
found  the  safeguard  in  the  sanctity  of  Marriage  among 
us ;  and  another  thinks  he  has  found  it  in  our  Cal 
vinism.  Fisher  Ames  expressed  the  popular  security 
more  wisely,  when  he  compared  a  monarchy  and  a 
republic,  saying,  "that  a  monarchy  is  a  merchant 
man,  which  sails  well,  but  will  sometimes  strike  on  a 
rock,  and  go  to  the  bottom ;  whilst  a  republic  is  a 
raft,  which  would  never  sink,  but  then  your  feet  are 
always  in  water."  No  forms  can  have  any  danger 
ous  importance,  whilst  we  are  befriended  by  the  laws 
of  things.  It  makes  no  difference  how  many  tons 
weight  of  atmosphere  presses  on  our  heads,  so  long 


POLITICS.  157 

as  the  same  pressure  resists  it  within  the  lungs. 
Augment  the  mass  a  thousand  fold,  it  cannot  begin 
to  crush  us,  as  long  as  reaction  is  equal  to  action. 
The  fact  of  two  poles,  of  two  forces,  centripetal  and 
centrifugal,  is  universal,  and  each  force  by  its  own 
activity  develops  the  other.  Wild  liberty  develops 
iron  conscience.  Want  of  liberty,  by  strengthening 
law  and  decorum,  stupefies  conscience.  '  Lynch- 
law'  prevails  only  where  there  is  greater  hardihood 
and  self-subsistency  in  the  leaders.  A  mob  cannot 
be  a  permanency :  everybody's  interest  requires  that 
it  should  not  exist,  and  only  justice  satisfies  all. 

We  must  trust  infinitely  to  the  beneficent  neces 
sity  which  shines  through  all  laws.  Human  nature 
expresses  itself  in  them  as  characteristically  as  in 
statues,  or  songs,  or  railroads,  and  an  abstract  of 
the  codes  of  nations  would  be  a  transcript  of  the  com 
mon  conscience.  Governments  have  their  origin  in 
the  moral  identity  of  men.  Reason  for  one  is  seen 
to  be  reason  for  another,  and  for  every  other.  There 
is  a  middle  measure  which  satisfies  all  parties,  be  they 
never  so  many,  or  so  resolute  for  their  own.  Every 
man  finds  a  sanction  for  his  simplest  claims  and  deeds 
in  decisions  of  his  own  mind,  which  he  calls  Truth 
and  Holiness.  In  these  decisions  all  the  citizens 
find  a  perfect  agreement,  and  only  in  these ;  not  in 
what  is  good  to  eat,  good  to  wear,  good  use  of  time, 
or  what  amount  of  land,  or  of  public  aid,  each  is 
entitled  to  claim.  This  truth  and  justice  men  pres 
ently  endeavor  to  make  application  of,  to  the  meas 
uring  of  land,  the  apportionment  of  service,  the 
protection  of  life  and  property.  Their  first  endeavors, 


158  POLITICS. 

no  doubt,  are  very  awkward.  Yet  absolute  right  is 
the  first  governor ;  or,  every  government  is  an  impure 
theocracy.  The  idea,  after  which  each  community  is 
aiming  to  make  and  mend  its  law,  is,  the  will  of  the 
wise  man.  The  wise  man,  it  cannot  find  in  nature, 
and  it  makes  awkward  but  earnest  efforts  to  secure 
his  government  by  contrivance ;  as,  by  causing  the 
entire  people  to  give  their  voices  on  every  measure  ; 
or,  by  a  double  choice  to  get  the  representation  of  the 
whole ;  or,  by  a  selection  of  the  best  citizens ;  or,  to 
secure  the  advantages  of  efficiency  and  internal  peace, 
by  confiding  the  government  to  one,  who  may  him 
self  select  his  agents.  All  forms  of  government  sym 
bolize  an  immortal  government,  common  to  all  dynas 
ties  and  independent  of  numbers,  perfect  where  two 
men  exist,  perfect  where  there  is  only  one  man. 

Every  man's  nature  is  a  sufficient  advertisement 
to  him  of  the  character  of  his  fellows.  My  right  and 
my  wrong,  is  their  right  and  their  wrong.  Whilst  I 
do  what  is  fit  for  me,  and  abstain  from  what  is  unfit, 
my  neighbor  and  I  shall  often  agree  in  our  means, 
and  work  together  for  a  time  to  one  end.  But  when 
ever  I  find  my  dominion  over  myself  not  sufficient 
for  me,  and  undertake  the  direction  of  him  also,  I 
overstep  the  truth,  and  come  into  false  relations  to 
him.  I  may  have  so  much  more  skill  or  strength 
than  he,  that  he  cannot  express  adequately  his  sense 
of  wrong,  but  it  is  a  lie,  and  hurts  like  a  lie  both  him 
and  me.  Love  and  nature  cannot  maintain  the  as 
sumption :  it  must  be  executed  by  a  practical  lie, 
namely,  by  force.  This  undertaking  for  another, 
is  the  blunder  which  stands  in  colossal  ugliness 


POLITICS.  159 

in  the  governments  of  the  world.  It  is  the  same 
thing  in  numbers,  as  in  a  pair,  only  not  quite 
so  intelligible.  I  can  see  well  enough  a  great  dif 
ference  between  my  setting  myself  down  to  a  self- 
control,  and  my  going  to  make  somebody  else  act 
after  my  views :  but  when  a  quarter  of  the  human 
race  assume  to  tell  me  what  I  must  do,  I  may  be  too 
much  disturbed  by  the  circumstances  to  see  so  clearly 
the  absurdity  of  their  command.  Therefore,  all  pub 
lic  ends  look  vague  and  quixotic  beside  private  ones. 
For,  any  laws  but  those  which  men  make  for  them 
selves,  are  laughable.  If  I  put  myself  in  the  place  of 
my  child,  and  we  stand  in  one  thought,  and  see  that 
things  are  thus  or  thus,  that  perception  is  law  for 
him  and  me.  We  are  both  there,  both  act.  But  if, 
without  carrying  him  into  the  thought,  I  look  over 
into  his  plot,  and  guessing  how  it  is  with  him,  ordain 
this  or  that,  he  will  never  obey  me.  This  is  the  his 
tory  of  governments,  —  one  man  does  something 
which  is  to  bind  another.  A  man  who  cannot  be 
acquainted  with  me,  taxes  me ;  looking  from  afar  at 
me,  ordains  that  a  part  of  my  labor  shall  go  to  this  or 
that  whimsical  end,  not  as  I,  but  as  he  happens  to 
fancy.  Behold  the  consequence.  Of  all  debts,  men 
are  least  willing  to  pay  the  taxes.  What  a  satire  is 
this  on  government!  Everywhere  they  think  they 
get  their  money's  worth,  except  for  these. 

Hence,  the  less  government  we  have,  the  better,  — 
the  fewer  laws,  and  the  less  confided  power.  The 
antidote  to  this  abuse  of  formal  Government,  is,  the 
influence  of  private  character,  the  growth  of  the  Indi 
vidual  ;  the  reappearance  of  the  principal  to  supersede 


160  POLITICS. 

the  proxy;  the  appearance  of  the  wise  man,  of  whom 
the  existing  government,  is,  it  must  be  owned,  but  a 
shabby  imitation.  That  which  all  things  tend  to 
educe,  which  freedom,  cultivation,  intercourse,  revo 
lutions,  go  to  form  and  deliver,  is  character ;  that  is 
the  end  of  nature,  to  reach  unto  this  coronation,  of 
her  king.  To  educate  the  wise  man,  the  State  exists  ; 
and  with  the  appearance  of  the  wise  man,  the  State 
expires.  The  appearance  of  character  makes  the 
State  unnecessary.  The  wise  man  is  the  State.  He 
needs  no  army,  fort,  or  navy,  —  he  loves  men  too 
well ;  no  bribe,  or  feast,  or  palace,  to  draw  friends  to 
him ;  no  vantage  ground,  no  favorable  circumstance. 
He  needs  no  library,  for  he  has  not  done  thinking ; 
no  church,  for  he  is  a  prophet ;  no  statute  book,  for 
he  is  the  law-giver ;  no  money,  for  he  is  value ;  no 
road,  for  he  is  at  home  where  he  is ;  no  experience, 
for  the  life  of  the  creator  shoots  through  him  and 
looks  from  his  eyes.  He  has  no  personal  friends,  for 
he  who  has  the  spell  to  draw  the  prayer  and  piety  of 
all  men  unto  him,  needs  not  husband  and  educate  a 
few,  to  share  with  him  a  select  and  poetic  life.  His 
relation  to  men  is  angelic ;  his  memory  is  myrrh  to 
them ;  his  presence,  frankincense  and  flowers. 

We  think  our  civilization  near  its  meridian,  but  we 
are  yet  only  at  the  cock-crowing  and  the  morning 
star.  In  our  barbarous  society  the  influence  of  char 
acter  is  in  its  infancy.  As  a  political  power,  as  the 
rightful  lord  who  is  to  tumble  all  rulers  from  their 
chairs,  its  presence  is  hardly  yet  suspected.  Malthus 
and  Ricardo  quite  omit  it ;  the  Annual  Register  is 
silent ;  in  the  Conversations1  Lexicon,  it  is  not  set 


POLITICS.  161 

•v 

down ;  the  President's  Message,  the  Queen's  Speech, 
have  not  mentioned  it ;  and  yet  it  is  never  nothing. 
Every  thought  which  genius  and  piety  throw  into  the 
world,  alters  the  world.  The  gladiators  in  the  lists 
of  power  feel,  through  all  their  frocks  of  force  and 
simulation,  the  presence  of  worth.  I  think  the  very 
strife  of  trade  and  ambition  are  confession  of  this 
divinity ;  and  successes  in  those  fields  are  the  poor 
amends,  the  fig-leaf  with  which  the  shamed  soul  at 
tempts  to  hide  its  nakedness.  I  find  the  like  unwill 
ing  homage  in  all  quarters.  It  is  because  we  know 
how  much  is  due  from  us,  that  we  are  impatient  to 
show  some  petty  talent  as  a  substitute  for  worth. 
We  are  haunted  by  a  conscience  of  this  right  to 
grandeur  of  character,  and  are  false  to  it.  But  each 
of  us  has  some  talent,  can  do  somewhat  useful,  or 
graceful,  or  formidable,  or  amusing,  or  lucrative. 
That  we  do,  as  an  apology  to  others  and  to  ourselves, 
for  not  reaching  the  mark  of  a  good  and  equal  life. 
But  it  does  not  satisfy  us,  whilst  we  thrust  it  on  the 
notice  of  our  companions.  It  may  throw  dust  in 
their  eyes,  but  does  not  smooth  our  own  brow,  or 
give  us  the  tranquillity  of  the  strong  when  we  walk 
abroad.  We  do  penance  as  we  go.  Our  talent  is  a 
sort  of  expiation,  and  we  are  constrained  to  reflect  on 
our  splendid  moment,  with  a  certain  humiliation,  as 
somewhat  too  fine,  and  not  as  one  act  of  many  acts, 
a  fair  expression  of  our  permanent  energy.  Most 
persons  of  ability  meet  in  society  with  a  kind  of  tacit 
.appeal.  Each  seems  to  say,'  'I  am  not  all  here.' 
Senators  and  presidents  have  climbed  so  high  with 
pain  enough,  not  because  they  think  the  place 


1 62  POLITICS. 

specially  agreeable,  but  as  an  apology  for  real  worth, 
and  to  vindicate  their  manhood  in  our  eyes.  This 
conspicuous  chair  is  their  compensation  to  themselves 
for  being  of  a  poor,  cold,  hard  nature.  They  must 
do  what  they  can.  Like  one  class  of  forest  animals, 
they  have  nothing  but  a  prehensile  tail :  climb  they 
must,  or  crawl.  If  a  man  found  himself  so  rich- 
natured  that  he  could  enter  into  strict  relations  with 
the  best  persons,  and  make  life  serene  around  him  by 
the  dignity  and  sweetness  of  his  behavior,  could  he 
afford  to  circumvent  the  favor  of  the  caucus  and  the 
press,  and  covet  relations  so  hollow  and  pompous,  as 
those  of  a  politician?  Surely  nobody  would  be  a 
charlatan,  who  could  afford  to  be  sincere. 

The  tendencies  of  the  times  favor  the  idea  of  self- 
government,  and  leave  the  individual,  for  all  code,  to 
the  rewards  and  penalties  of  his  own  constitution, 
which  work  with  more  energy  than  we  believe,  whilst 
we  depend  on  artificial  restraints.  The  movement  in 
this  direction  has  been  very  marked  in  modern  his 
tory.  Much  has  been  blind  and  discreditable,  but 
the  nature  of  the  revolution  is  not  affected  by  the 
vices  of  the  revolters  ;  for  this  is  a  purely  moral  force. 
It  was  never  adopted  by  any  party  in  history,  neither 
can  be.  It  separates  the  individual  from  all  party, 
and  unites  him,  at  the  same  time,  to  the  race.  It 
promises  a  recognition  of  higher  rights  than  those  of 
personal  freedom,  or  the  security  of  property.  A 
man  has  a  right  to  be  employed,  to  be  trusted,  to  be 
loved,  to  be  revered.  The  power  of  love,  as  the  basis 
of  a  State,  has  never  been  tried.  We  must  not  im 
agine  that  all  things  are  lapsing  into  confusion,  if 


POLITICS.  163 

every  tender  protestant  be  not  compelled  to  bear  his 
part  in  certain  social  conventions :  nor  doubt  that 
roads  can  be  built,  letters  carried,  and  the  fruit  ot 
labor  secured,  when  the  government  of  force  is  at 
an  end.  Are  our  methods  now  so  excellent  that  all 
competition  is  hopeless?  Could  not  a  nation  01 
friends  even  devise  better  ways?  On  the  other  hand, 
let  not  the  most  conservative  and  timid  fear  anything 
from  a  premature  surrender  of  the  bayonet,  and  the 
system  of  force.  For,  according  to  the  order  of  na 
ture,  which  is  quite  superior  to  our  will,  it  stands 
thus;  there  will  always  be  a  government  of  force, 
where  men  are  selfish  ;  and  when  they  are  pure  enough 
to  abjure  the  code  of  force,  they  will  be  wise  enough 
to  see  how  these  public  ends  of  the  post-office,  ot 
the  highway,  of  commerce,  and  the  exchange  of  prop 
erty,  of  museums  and  libraries,  of  institutions  of  art 
and  science,  can  be  answered. 

We  live  in  a  very  low  state  of  the  world,  and  pay 
unwilling  tribute  to  governments  founded  on  force. 
There  is  not,  among  the  most  religious  and  instructed 
men  of  the  most  religious  and  civil  nations,  a  reli 
ance  on  the  moral  sentiment,  and  a  sufficient  beliet 
in  the  unity  of  things  to  persuade  them  that  soci 
ety  can  be  maintained  without  artificial  restraints,  as 
well  as  the  solar  system ;  or  that  the  private  citizen 
might  be  reasonable,  and  a  good  neighbor,  without 
the  hint  of  a  jail  or  a  confiscation.  What  is  strange 
too,  there  never  was  in  any  man  sufficient  faith  in 
the  power  of  rectitude,  to  inspire  him  with  the  broad 
design  of  renovating  the  State  on  the  principle  of 
right  and  love.  All  those  who  have  pretended  this 


1 64  POLITICS. 

design,  have  been  partial  reformers,  and  have  ad 
mitted  in  some  manner  the  supremacy  of  the  bad 
State.  I  do  not  call  to  mind  a  single  human  being 
who  has  steadily  denied  the  authority  of  the  laws, 
on  the  simple  ground  of  his  own  moral  nature.  Such 
designs,  full  of  genius  and  full  of  fate  as  they  are, 
are  not  entertained  except  avowedly  as  air-pictures. 
If  the  individual  who  exhibits  them,  dare  to  think 
them  practicable,  he  disgusts  scholars  and  church 
men ;  and  men  of  talent,  and  women  of  superior 
sentiments,  cannot  hide  their  contempt.  Not  the 
less  does  nature  continue  to  fill  the  heart  of  youth 
with  suggestions  of  this  enthusiasm,  and  there  are 
now  men,  —  if  indeed  I  can  speak  in  the  plural  num 
ber, —  more  exactly,  I  will  say,  I  have  just  been 
conversing  with  one  man,  to  whom  no  weight  of 
adverse  experience  will  make  it  for  a  moment  appear 
impossible,  that  thousands  of  human  beings  might 
exercise  towards  each  other  the  grandest  and  sim 
plest  sentiments,  as  well  as  a  knot  of  friends,  or  a 
pair  of  lovers. 


ESSAY   VIII. 

NOMINALIST   AND   REALIST. 

In  countless  upward-striving  waves 

The  moon-drawn  tide-wave  strives ; 

In  thousand  far-transplanted  grafts 

The  parent  fruit  survives ; 

So,  in  the  new-born  millions, 

The  perfect  Adam  lives.     . 

Not  less  are  summer-mornings  dear 

To  every  child  they  wake, 

And  each  with  novel  life  his  sphere 

Fills  for  his  proper  sake. 

I  CANNOT  often  enough  say,  that  a  man  is  only  a 
relative  and  representative  nature.  Each  is  a  hint 
of  the  truth,  but  far  enough  from  being  that  truth, 
which  yet  he  quite  newly  and  inevitably  suggests  to 
us.  If  I  seek  it  in  him,  I  shall  not  find  it.  Could 
any  man  conduct  into  me  the  pure  stream  of  that 
which  he  pretends  to  be  !  Long  afterwards,  I  find 
that  quality  elsewhere  which  he  promised  me.  The 
genius  of  the  Platonists,  is  intoxicating  to  the  stu 
dent,  yet  how  few  particulars  of  it  can  I  detach 
from  all  their  books.  The  man  momentarily  stands 
for  the  thought,  but  will  not  bear  examination ;  and 
a  society  of  men  will  cursorily  represent  well  enough 
a  certain  quality  and  culture,  for  example,  chivalry 

165 


1 66  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

or  beauty  of  manners,  but  separate  them,  and  there  is 
no  gentleman  and  no  lady  in  the  group.  The  least 
hint  sets  us  on  the  pursuit  of  a  character,  which  no 
man  realizes.  We  have  such  exorbitant  eyes,  that 
on  seeing  the  smallest  arc,  we  complete  the  curve, 
and  when  the  curtain  is  lifted  from  the  diagram 
which  it  seemed  to  veil,  we  are  vexed  to  find  that 
no  more  was  drawn,  than  just  that  fragment  of  an 
arc  which  we  first  beheld.  We  are  greatly  too  lib 
eral  in  our  construction  of  each  other's  faculty  and 
promise.  Exactly  what  the  parties  have  already 
done,  they  shall  do  again ;  but  that  which  we  in 
ferred  from  their  nature  and  inception,  they  will 
not  do.  That  is  in  nature,  but  not  in  them.  That 
happens  in  the  world,  which  we  often  witness  in  a 
public  debate.  Each  of  the  speakers  expresses  him 
self  imperfectly :  no  one  of  them  hears  much  that 
another  says,  such  is  the  preoccupation  of  mind  of 
each ;  and  the  audience,  who  have  only  to  hear  and 
not  to  speak,  judge  very  wisely  and  superiorly  how 
wrongheaded  and  unskilful  is  each  of  the  debaters 
to  his  own  affair.  Great  men  or  men  of  great  gifts 
you  shall  easily  find,  but  symmetrical  men  never. 
When  I  meet  a  pure  intellectual  force,  or  a  gener 
osity  of  affection,  I  believe,  here  then  is  man ;  and 
am  presently  mortified  by  the  discovery,  that  this 
individual  is  no  more  available  to  his  own  or  to 
the  general  ends,  than  his  companions ;  because  the 
power  which  drew  my  respect,  is  not  supported  by 
the  total  symphony  of  his  talents.  All  persons  ex 
ist  to  society  by  some  shining  trait  of  beauty  or 
utility,  which  they  have.  We  borrow  the  propor- 


NOMINALIST  AND   REALIST.  167 

tions  of  the  man  from  that  one  fine  feature,  and  fin 
ish  the  portrait  symmetrically ;  which  is  false ;  for 
the  rest  of  his  body  is  small  or  deformed.  I  observe 
a  person  who  makes  a  good  public  appearance,  and 
conclude  thence  the  perfection  of  his  private  char 
acter,  on  which  this  is  based ;  but  he  has  no  private 
character.  He  is  a  graceful  cloak  or  lay-figure  for 
holidays.  All  our  poets,  heroes,  and  saints,  fail  ut 
terly  in  some  one  or  in  many  parts  to  satisfy  our 
idea,  fail  to  draw  our  spontaneous  interest,  and  so 
leave  us  without  any  hope  of  realization  but  in  our 
own  future.  Our  exaggeration  of  all  fine  characters 
arises  from  the  fact,  that  we  identify  each  in  turn 
with  the  soul.  But  there  are  no  such  men  as  we 
fable ;  no  Jesus,  nor  Pericles,  nor  Caesar,  nor  An- 
gelo,  nor  Washington,  such  as  we  have  made.  We 
consecrate  a  great  deal  of  nonsense,  because  it  was 
allowed  by  great  men.  There  is  none  without  his 
foible.  I  verily  believe  if  an  angel  should  come 
to  chant  the  chorus  of  the  moral  law,  he  would  eat 
too  much  gingerbread,  or  take  liberties  with  private 
letters,  or  do  some  precious  atrocity.  It  is  bad 
enough,  that  our  geniuses  cannot  do  anything  useful, 
but  it  is  worse  that  no  man  is  fit  for  society,  who 
has  fine  traits.  He  is  admired  at  a  distance,  but  he 
cannot  come  near  without  appearing  a  cripple.  The 
men  of  fine  parts  protect  themselves  by  solitude,  or 
by  courtesy,  or  by  satire,  or  by  an  acid  wordly  man 
ner,  each  concealing,  as  he  best  can,  his  incapacity 
for  useful  association,  but  they  want  either  love  or 
self-reliance. 

Our  native  love  of  reality  joins  with  this  experi- 


1 68  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

ence  to  teach  us  a  little  reserve,  and  to  dissuade  a 
too  sudden  surrender  to  the  brilliant  qualities  of  per 
sons.  Young  people  admire  talents  or  particular 
excellences ;  as  we  grow  older,  we  value  total  powers 
and  effects,  as,  the  impression,  the  quality,  the  spirit 
of  men  and  things.  The  genius  is  all.  The  man,  — 
it  is  his  system :  we  do  not  try  a  solitary  word  or  act, 
but  his  habit.  The  acts  which  you  praise,  I  praise 
not,  since  they  are  departures  from  his  faith,  and  are 
mere  compliances.  The  magnetism  which  arranges 
tribes  and  races  in  one  polarity,  is  alone  to  be 
respected  ;  the  men  are  steel-filings.  Yet  we  unjustly 
select  a  particle,  and  say,  "  O  steel-filing  number  one! 
what  heart-drawings  I  feel  to  thee  !  what  prodigious 
virtues  are  these  of  thine  !  how  constitutional  to  thee, 
and  incommunicable." 

Whilst  we  speak,  the  loadstone  is  withdrawn; 
down  falls  our  filing  in  a  heap  with  the  rest,  and 
we  continue  our  mummery  to  the  wretched  shaving. 
Let  us  go  for  universals  ;  for  the  magnetism,  not  for 
the  needles.  Human  life  and  its  persons  are  poor 
empirical  pretensions.  A  personal  influence  is  an 
ignis  fatuus .  If  they  say,  it  is  great,  it  is  great ;  if 
they  say,  it  is  small,  it  is  small ;  you  see  it,  and  you 
see  it  not,  by  turns ;  it  borrows  all  its  size  from  the 
momentary  estimation  of  the  speakers :  the  Will-of- 
the-wisp  vanishes, -if  you  go  too  near,  vanishes  if  you 
go  too  far,  and  only  blazes  at  one  angle.  Who  can 
tell  if  Washington  be  a  great  man,  or  no?  Who  can 
tell  if  Franklin  be?  Yes,  or  any  but  the  twelve,  or 
six,  or  three  great  gods  of  fame?  And  they  too, 
loom  and  fade  before  the  eternal. 


NOMINALIST  AND   REALIST.  169 

We  are  amphibious  creatures,  weaponed  for  two 
elements,  having  two  sets  of  faculties,  the  particular 
and  the  catholic.  We  adjust  our  instrument  for  gen 
eral  observation,  and  sweep  the  heavens  as  easily  as 
we  pick  out  a  single  figure  in  the  terrestrial  landscape. 
We  are  practically  skilful  in  detecting  elements,  for 
which  we  have  no  place  in  our  theory,  and  no  name. 
Thus  we  are  very  sensible  of  an  atmospheric  influence 
in  men  and  in  bodies  of  men,  not  accounted  for  in  an 
arithmetical  addition  of  all  their  measurable  proper 
ties.  There  is  a  genius  of  a  nation,  which  is  not  to 
be  found  in  the  numerical  citizens,  but  which  charac 
terizes  the  society.  England,  strong,  punctual,  prac 
tical,  well-spoken  England,  I  should  not  find,  if  I 
should  go  to  the  island  to  seek  it.  In  the  parlia 
ment,  in  the  playhouse,  at  dinner-tables,  I  might  see 
a  great  number  of  rich,  ignorant,  book-read,  con 
ventional,  proud  men,  —  many  old  women,  —  and 
not  anywhere  the  Englishman  who  made  the  good 
speeches,  combined  the  accurate  engines,  and  did 
the  bold  and  nervous  deeds.  It  is  even  worse  in 
America,  where,  from  the  intellectual  quickness  of 
the  race,  the  genius  of  the  country  is  more  splendid 
in  its  promise,  and  more  slight  in  its  performance. 
Webster  cannot  do  the  work  of  Webster.  We  con 
ceive  distinctly  enough  the  French,  the  Spanish,  the 
German  genius,  and  it  is  not  the  less  real,  that  per 
haps  \ve  should  not  meet  in  either  of  those  nations, 
a  single  individual  who  corresponded  with  the  type. 
We  infer  the  spirit  of  the  nation  in  great  measure 
from  the  language,  which  is  a  sort  of  monument,  to 
which  each  forcible  individual  in  a  course  of  many 


1 70          NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

hundred  years  has  contributed  a  stone.  And,  uni 
versally,  a  good  example  of  this  social  force,  is  the 
veracity  of  language,  which  cannot  be  debauched. 
In  any  controversy  concerning  morals,  an  appeal 
may  be  made  with  safety  to  the  sentiments,  which 
the  language  of  the  people  expresses.  Proverbs, 
words  and  grammar  inflections  convey  the  public 
sense  with  more  purity  and  precision,  than  the  wisest 
individual. 

In  the  famous  dispute  with  the  Nominalists,  the 
Realists  had  a  good  deal  of  reason.  General  ideas 
are  essences.  They  are  our  gods :  they  round  and 
ennoble  the  most  partial  and  sordid  way  of  living. 
Our  proclivity  to  details  cannot  quite  degrade  our 
life,  and  divest  it  of  poetry.  The  day-laborer  is 
reckoned  as  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  social  scale, 
yet  he  is  saturated  with  the  laws  of  the  world.  His 
measures  are  the  hours ;  morning  and  night,  solstice 
and  equinox,  geometry,  astronomy,  and  all  the  lovely 
accidents  of  nature  play  through  his  mind.  Money, 
which  represents  the  prose  of  life,  and  which  is  hardly 
spoken  of  in  parlors  without  an  apology,  is,  in  its 
effects  and  laws,  as  beautiful  as  roses.  Property  keeps 
the  accounts  of  the  world,  and  is  always  moral.  The 
property  will  be  found  where  the  labor,  the  wisdom, 
and  the  virtue  have  been  in  nations,  in  classes,  and 
(the  whole  life-time  considered,  with  the  compensa 
tions)  in  the  individual  also.  How  wise  the  world 
appears,  when  the  laws  and  usages  of  nations  are 
largely  detailed,  and  the  completeness  of  the  munici 
pal  system  is  considered!  Nothing  is  left  out.  If 
you  go  into  the  markets,  and  the  custom-houses,  the 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  171 

insurers  and  notaries'  offices,  the  offices  of  sealers  of 
weights  and  measures,  of  inspection  of  provisions,  —  it 
will  appear  as  if  one  man  had  made  it  all.  Wherever 
you  go,  a  wit  like  your  own  has  been  before  you,  and 
has  realized  its  thought.  The  Eleusinian  mysteries, 
the  Egyptian  architecture,  the  Indian  astronomy,  the 
Greek  sculpture,  show  that  there  always  were  seeing 
and  knowing  men  in  the  planet.  The  world  is  full  of 
masonic  ties,  of  guilds,  of  secret  and  public  legions 
of  honor ;  that  of  scholars,  for  example  ;  and  that  of 
gentlemen  fraternizing  with  the  upper  class  of  every 
country  and  every  culture. 

I  am  very  much  struck  in  literature  by  the  appear 
ance,  that  one  person  wrote  all  the  books ;  as  if  the 
editor  of  a  journal  planted  his  body  of  reporters  in 
different  parts  of  the  field  of  action,  and  relieved 
some  by  others  from  time  to  time ;  but  there  is  such 
equality  and  identity  both  of  judgment  and  point  of 
view  in  the  narrative,  that  it  is  plainly  the  work  of 
one  all-seeing,  all-hearing  gentleman.  I  looked  into 
Pope's  Odyssey  yesterday  :  it  is  as  correct  and  elegant 
after  our  canon  of  to-day,  as  if  it  were  newly  written. 
The  modernness  of  all  good  books  seems  to  give  me  an 
existence  as  wide  as  man.  What  is  well  done,  I  feel  as 
if  I  did  ;  what  is  ill-done,  I  reck  not  of.  Shakspeare's 
passages  of  passion  (for  example,  in  Lear  and  Ham 
let)  are  in  the  very  dialect  of  the  present  year.  I  am 
faithful  again  to  the  whole  over  the  members  in  my 
use  of  books.  I  find  the  most  pleasure  in  reading  a 
book  in  a  manner  least  flattering  to  the  author.  I 
read  Proclus,  and  sometimes  Plato,  as  I  might  read  a 
dictionary,  for  a  mechanical  help  to  the  fancy  and  the 


i  J2  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

imagination.  I  read  for  the  lustres,  as  if  one  should 
use  a  fine  picture  in  a  chromatic  experiment,  for  its 
rich  colors.  Tis  not  Proclus,  but  a  piece  of  nature 
and  fate  that  I  explore.  It  is  a  greater  joy  to  see  the 
author's  author,  than  himself.  A  higher  pleasure  of 
the  same  kind  I  found  lately  at  a  concert,  where  I 
went  to  hear  Handel's  Messiah.  As  the  master  over 
powered  the  littleness  and  incapableness  of  the  per 
formers,  and  made  them  conductors  of  his  electricity, 
so  it  was  easy  to  observe  what  efforts  nature  was 
making  through  so  many  hoarse,  wooden,  and  imper 
fect  persons,  to  produce  beautiful  voices,  fluid  and 
soul-guided  men  and  women.  The  genius  of  nature 
was  paramount  at  the  oratorio. 

This  preference  of  the  genius  to  the  parts  is  the 
secret  of  that  deification  of  art,  which  is  found  in 
all  superior  minds.  Art,  in  the  artist,  is  proportion, 
or,  a  habitual  respect  to  the  whole  by  an  eye  loving 
beauty  in  details.  And  the  wonder  and  charm  of  it 
is  the  sanity  in  insanity  which  it  denotes.  Propor 
tion  is  almost  impossible  to  human  beings.  There 
is  no  one  who  does  not  exaggerate.  In  conversation, 
men  are  encumbered  with  personality,  and  talk  too 
much.  In  modern  sculpture,  picture,  and  poetry, 
the  beauty  is  miscellaneous ;  the  artist  works  here 
and  there,  and  at  all  points,  adding  and  adding, 
instead  of  unfolding  the  unit  of  his  thought.  Beauti 
ful  details  we  must  have,  or  no  artist :  but  they  must 
be  means  and  never  other.  The  eye  must  not  lose 
sight  for  a  moment  of  the  purpose.  Lively  boys 
write  to  their  ear  and  eye,  and  the  cool  reader  finds 
nothing  but  sweet  jingles  in  it.  When  they  grow 
older,  they  respect  the  argument. 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  173 

We  obey  the  same  intellectual  integrity,  when  we 
study  in  exceptions  the  law  of  the  world.  Anoma 
lous  facts,  as  the  never  quite  obsolete  rumors  of 
magic  and  demonology,  and  the  new  allegations  of 
phrenologists  and  neurologists,  are  of  ideal  use. 
They  are  good  indications.  Homoeopathy  is  insig 
nificant  as  an  art  of  healing,  but  of  great  value  as 
criticism  on  the  hygeia  or  medical  practice  of  the 
time.  So  with  Mesmerism,  Swedenborgism,  Fou- 
rierism,  and  the  Millennial  Church ;  they  are  poor 
pretensions  enough,  but  good  criticism  on  the  sci 
ence,  philosophy,  and  preaching  of  the  day.  For 
these  abnormal  insights  of  the  adepts,  ought  to  be 
normal,  and  things  of  course. 

All  things  show  us,  that  on  every  side  we  are  very 
near  to  the  best.  It  seems  not  worth  while  to  exe 
cute  with  too  much  pains  some  one  intellectual,  or 
aesthetical,  or  civil  feat,  when  presently  the  dream 
will  scatter,  and  we  shall  burst  into  universal  power. 
The  reason  of  idleness  and  of  crime  is  the  deferring 
of  our  hopes.  Whilst  we  are  waiting,  we  beguile 
the  time  with  jokes,  with  sleep,  with  eating,  and  with 
crimes. 

Thus  we  settle  it  in  our  cool  libraries,  that  all  the 
agents  with  which  we  deal  are  subalterns,  which  we 
can  well  afford  to  let  pass,  and  life  will  be  simpler 
when  we  live  at  the  centre,  and  flout  the  surfaces. 
I  wish  to  speak  with  all  respect  of  persons,  but  some 
times  I  must  pinch  myself  to  keep  awake,  and  pre 
serve  the  due  decorum.  They  melt  so  fast  into  each 
other,  that  they  are  like  grass  and  trees,  and  it  needs 


174          NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

an  effort  to  treat  them  as  individuals.  Though  the 
uninspired  man  certainly  finds  persons  a  conveniency 
in  household  matters,  the  divine  man  does  not  re 
spect  them :  he  sees  them  as  a  rack  of  clouds,  or  a 
fleet  of  ripples  which  the  wind  drives  over  the  sur 
face  of  the  water.  But  this  is  flat  rebellion.  Nature 
will  not  be  Buddhist :  she  resents  generalizing,  and 
insults  the  philosopher  in  every  moment  with  a  mil 
lion  of  fresh  particulars.  It  is  all  idle  talking :  as 
much  as  a  man  is  a  whole,  so  is  he  also  a  part ;  and 
it  were  partial  not  to  see  it.  What  you  say  in  your 
pompous  distribution  only  distributes  you  into  your 
class  and  section.  You  have  not  got  rid  of  parts  by 
denying  them,  but  are  the  more  partial.  You  are 
one  thing,  but  nature  is  one  thing  and  the  other  thing^ 
in  the  same  moment.  She  will  not  remain  orbed  in 
a  thought,  but  rushes  into  persons :  and  when  each 
person,  inflamed  to  a  fury  of  personality,  would 
conquer  all  things  to  his  poor  crotchet,  she  raises 
up  against  him  another  person,  and  by  many  persons 
incarnates  again  a  sort  of  whole.  She  will  have  all. 
Nick  Bottom  cannot  play  all  the  parts,  work  it  how 
he  may :  there  will  be  somebody  else,  and  the  world 
will  be  round.  Every  thing  must  have  its  flower  or 
effort  at  the  beautiful,  coarser  or  finer  according  to 
its  stuff.  They  relieve  and  recommend  each  other, 
and  the  sanity  of  society  is  a  balance  of  a  thousand 
insanities.  She  punishes  abstractionists,  and  will 
only  forgive  an  induction  which  is  rare  and  casual. 
We  like  to  come  to  a  height  of  land  and  see  the 
landscape,  just  as  we  value  a  general  remark  in  con 
versation.  But  it  is  not  the  intention  of  nature  that 


NOMINALIST  AND   REALIST.  175 

we  should  live  by  general  views.  We  fetch  fire  and 
water,  run  about  all  day  among  the  shops  and  mar 
kets,  and  get  our  clothes  and  shoes  made  and  mended, 
and  are  the  victims  of  these  details,  and  once  in  a 
fortnight  we  arrive  perhaps  at  a  rational  moment. 
If  we  were  not  thus  infatuated,  if  we  saw  the  real 
from  hour  to  hour,  we  should  not  be  here  to  write 
and  to  read,  but  should  have  been  burned  or  frozen 
long  ago.  She  would  never  get  anything  done,  if 
she  suffered  admirable  Crichtons,  and  universal  ge 
niuses.  She  loves  better  a  wheelwright  who  dreams 
all  night  of  wheels,  and  a  groom  who  is  part  of  his 
horse :  for  she  is  full  of,  work,  and  these  are  her 
hands.  As  the  frugal  farmer  takes  care  that  his 
cattle  shall  eat  down  the  rowan,  and  swine  shall  eat 
the  waste  of  his  house,  and  poultry  shall  pick  the 
crumbs,  so  our  economical  mother  despatches  a  new 
genius  and  habit  of  mind  into  every  district  and  con 
dition  of  existence,  plants  an  eye  wherever  a  new 
ray  of  light  can  fall,  and  gathering  up  into  some 
man  every  property  in  the  universe,  establishes  thou 
sandfold  occult  mutual  attractions  among  her  off 
spring,  that  all  this  wash  and  waste  of  power  may  be 
imparted  and  exchanged. 

Great  dangers  undoubtedly  accrue  from  this  incar 
nation  and  distribution  of  the  godhead,  and  hence 
nature  has  her  maligners,  as  if  she  were  Circe ;  and 
Alphonso  of  Castille  fancied  he  could  have  given 
useful  advice.  But  she  does  not  go  unprovided  ;  she 
has  hellebore  at  the  bottom  of  the  cup.  Solitude 
would  ripen  a  plentiful  crop  of  despots.  The  recluse 
thinks  of  men  as  having  his  manner,  or  as  not  hav- 


I  76  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

ing  his  manner ;  and  as  having  degrees  of  it,  more 
and  less.  But  when  he  comes  into  a  public  assembly, 
he  sees  that  men  have  very  different  manners  from 
his  own,  and  in  their  way  admirable.  In  his  child 
hood  and  youth,  he  has  had  many  checks  and  cen 
sures,  and  thinks  modestly  enough  of  his  own 
endowment.  When  afterwards  he  comes  to  unfold 
it  in  propitious  circumstance,  it  seems  the  only 
talent :  he  is  delighted  with  his  success,  and  accounts 
himself  already  the  fellow  of  the  great.  But  he  goes 
into  a  mob,  into  a  banking-house,  into  a  mechanic's 
shop,  into  a  mill,  into  a  laboratory,  into  a  ship,  into 
a  camp,  and  in  each  new  place  he  is  no  better  than 
an  idiot :  other  talents  take  place,  and  rule  the  hour. 
The  rotation  which  whirls  every  leaf  and  pebble  to 
the  meridian,  reaches  to'  every  gift  of  man,  and  we 
all  take  turns  at  the  top. 

For  nature,  who  abhors  mannerism,  has  set  her 
heart  on  breaking  up  all  styles  and  tricks,  and  it  is 
so  much  easier  to  do  what  one  has  done  before,  than 
to  do  a  new  thing,  that  there  is  a  perpetual  tendency 
to  a  set  mode.  In  every  conversation,  even  the 
highest,  there  is  a  certain  trick,  which  may  be  soon 
learned  by  an  acute  person,  and  then  that  particular 
style  continued  indefinitely.  Each  man,  too,  is  a 
tyrant  in  tendency,  because  he  would  impose  his  idea 
on  others;  and  their  trick  is  their  natural  defence. 
Jesus  would  absorb  the  race ;  but  Tom  Paine  or  the 
coarsest  blasphemer  helps  humanity  by  resisting  this 
exuberance  of  power.  Hence  the  immense  benefit  of 
party  in  politics,  as  it  reveals  faults  of  character  in  a 
chief,  which  the  intellectual  force  of  the  persons,  with 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  177 

ordinary  opportunity  and  not  hurled  into  aphelion  by 
hatred,  could  not  have  seen.  Since  we  are  all  so 
stupid,  what  benefit  that  there  should  be  two  stupidi 
ties  !  It  is  like  that  brute  advantage  so  essential  to 
astronomy,  of  having  the  diameter  of  the  earth's  orbit 
for  a  base  of  its  triangles.  Democracy  is  morose, 
and  runs  to  anarchy,  but  in  the  state,  and  in  the 
schools,  it  is  indispensable  to  resist  the  consolidation 
of  all  men  into  a  few  men.  If  John  was  perfect,  why 
are  you  and  I  alive?  As  long  as  any  man  exists, 
there  is  some  need  of  him ;  let  him  fight  for  his  own. 
A  new  poet  has  appeared ;  a  new  character  ap 
proached  us ;  why  should  we  refuse  to  eat  bread,  un 
til  we  have  found  his  regiment  and  section  in  our  old 
army-files?  Why  not  a  new  man?  Here  is  a  new 
enterprise  of  Brook  Farm,  of  Skeneateles,  of  North 
ampton  :  why  so  impatient  to  baptize  them  Essenes, 
or  Port-Royalists,  or  Shakers,  or  by  any  known  and 
effete  name?  Let  it  be  a  new  way  of  living.  Why 
have  only  two  or  three  ways  of  life,  and  not  thou 
sands?  Every  man  is  wanted,  and  no  man  is  wanted 
much.  We  came  this  time  for  condiments,  not  for 
corn.  We  want  the  great  genius  only  for  joy ;  for 
one  star  more  in  our  constellation,  for  one  tree  more 
in  our  grove.  But  he  thinks  we  wish  to  belong  to 
him,  as  he  wishes  to  occupy  us.  He  greatly  mistakes 
us.  I  think  I  have  done  well,  if  I  have  acquired  a 
new  word  from  a  good  author ;  and  my  business  with 
him  is  to  find  my  own,  though  it  were  only  to  melt 
him  down  into  an  epithet  or  an  image  for  daily  use. 

Into  paint  will  I  grind  thee,  my  bride ! 


i?8  NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

To  embroil  the  confusion,  and  make  it  impossible 
to  arrive  at  any  general  statement,  when  we  have  in 
sisted  on  the  imperfection  of  individuals,  our  affec 
tions  and  our  experience  urge  that  every  individual 
is  entitled  to  honor,  and  a  very  generous  treatment 
is  sure  to  be  repaid.  A  recluse  sees  only  two  or 
three  persons,  and  allows  them  all  their  room ;  they 
spread  themselves  at  large.  The  man  of  state  looks 
at  many,  and  compares  the  few  habitually  with 
others,  and  these  look  less.  Yet  are  they  not  enti 
tled  to  this  generosity  of  reception  ?  and  is  not  munif 
icence  the  means  of  insight  ?  For  though  gamesters 
say,  that  the  cards  beat  all  the  players,  though  they 
were  never  so  skilful,  yet  in  the  contest  we  are  now 
considering,  the  players  are  also  the  game,  and  share 
the  power  of  the  cards.  If  you  criticise  a  fine  genius, 
the  odds  are  that  you  are  out  of  your  reckoning,  and, 
instead  of  the  poet,  are  censuring  your  own  caricature 
of  him.  For  there  is  somewhat  spheral  and  infinite 
in  every  man,  especially  in  every  genius,  which^  if 
you  can  come  very  near  him,  sports  with  all  your 
limitations.  For,  rightly,  every  man  is  a  channel 
through  which  heaven  floweth,  and,  whilst  I  fancied 
I  was  criticising  him,  I  was  censuring  or  rather  termi 
nating  my  own  soul.  After  taxing  Goethe  as  a  court 
ier,  artificial,  unbelieving,  worldly,  —  I  took  up  this 
book  of  Helena,  and  found  him  an  Indian  of  the  wil 
derness,  a  piece  of  pure  nature  like  an  apple  or  an 
oak,  large  as  morning  or  night,  and  virtuous  as  a 
briar-rose. 

But  care  is  taken  that  the  whole  tune  shall  be 
played.  If  we  were  not  kept  among  surfaces,  every 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  i?9 

thing  would  be  large  and  universal :  now  the  ex 
cluded  attributes  burst  in  on  us  with  the  more  bright 
ness,  that  they  have  been  excluded.  "Your  turn 
now,  my  turn  next,"  is  the  rule  of  the  game.  The 
universality  being  hindered  in  its  primary  form, 
comes  in  the  secondary  form  of  all  sides :  the  points 
come  in  succession  to  the  meridian,  and  by  the  speed 
of  rotation,  a  new  whole  is  formed.  Nature  keeps 
herself  whole  and  her  representation  complete  in  the 
experience  of  each  mind.  She  suffers  no  seat  to  be 
vacant  in  her  college.  It  is  the  secret  of  the  world 
that  all  things  subsist,  and  do  not  die,  but  only  retire 
a  little  from  sight,  and  afterwards  return  again. 
Whatever  does  not  concern  us,  is  concealed  from  us. 
As  soon  as  a  person  is  no  longer  related  to  our  pres 
ent  well-being,  he  is  concealed,  or  dies,  as  we  say. 
Really,  all  things  and  persons  are  related  to  us,  but 
according  to  our  nature,  they  act  on  us  not  at  once,  but 
in  succession,  and  we  are  made  aware  of  their  pres 
ence  one  at  a  time.  All  persons,  all  things  which 
we  have  known,  are  here  present,  and  many  more 
than  we  see  ;  the  world  is  full.  As  the  ancient  said, 
the  world  is  a  plemim  or  solid ;  and  if  we  saw  all 
things  that  really  surround  us,  we  should  be  impris 
oned  and  unable  to  move.  For,  though  nothing  is 
impassable  to  the  soul,  but  all  things  are  pervious  to 
it,  and  like  highways,  yet  this  is  only  whilst  the  soul 
does  not  see  them.  As  soon  as  the  soul  sees  any 
object,  it  stops  before  that  object.  Therefore,  the 
divine  Providence,  which  keeps  the  universe  open  in 
every  direction  to 'the  soul,  conceals  all  the  furniture 
and  all  the  persons  that  do  not  concern  a  particular 


i8o  NOMINALIST  AND   REALIST. 

soul  from  the  senses  of  that  individual.  Through 
solidest  eternal  things,  the  man  finds  his  road,  as  if 
they  did  not  subsist,  and  does  not  once  suspect  their 
being.  As  soon  as  he  needs  a  new  object,  suddenly 
he  beholds  it  and  no  longer  attempts  to  pass  through 
it,  but  takes  another  way.  When  he  has  exhausted 
for  the  time  the  nourishment  to  be  drawn  from  any 
one  person  or  thing,  that  object  is  withdrawn  from 
his  observation,  and  though  still  in  his  immediate 
neighborhood,  he  does  not  suspect  its  presence. 

Nothing  is  dead :  men  feign  themselves  dead,  and 
endure  mock  funerals  and  mournful  obituaries,  and 
there  they  stand  looking  out  of  the  window,  sound 
and  well,  in  some  new  and  strange  disguise.  Jesus 
is  not  dead :  he  is  very  well  alive :  nor  John,  nor 
Paul,  nor  Mahomet,  nor  Aristotle ;  at  times  we  be 
lieve  we  have  seen  them  all,  and  could  easily  tell  the 
names  under  which  they  go. 

If  we  cannot  make  voluntary  and  conscious  steps 
in  the  admirable  science  of  universals,  let  us  see  the 
parts  wisely,  and  infer  the  genius  of  nature  from  the 
best  particulars  with  a  becoming  charity.  What  is 
best  in  each  kind  is  an  index  of  what  should  be  the 
average  of  that  thing.  Love  shows  me  the  opulence 
of  nature,  by  disclosing  to  me  in  my  friend  a  hidden 
wealth,  and  I  infer  an  equal  depth  of  good  in  every 
other  direction.  It  is  commonly  said  by  farmers, 
that  a  good  pear  or  apple  costs  no  more  time  or  pains 
to  rear,  than  a  poor  one ;  so  I  would  have  no  work 
of  art,  no  speech,  or  action,  or  thought,  or  friend, 
but  the  best. 

The  end  and  the  means,  the  gamester  and   the 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  181 

game,  —  life  is  made  up  of  the  intermixture  and  re 
action  of  these  two  amicable  powers,  whose  marriage 
appears  beforehand  monstrous,  as  each  denies  and 
tends  to  abolish  the  other.  We  must  reconcile  the 
contradictions  as  we  can,  but  their  discord  and  their 
concord  introduce  wild  absurdities  into  our  thinking 
and  speech.  No  sentence  will  hold  the  whole  truth, 
and  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  be  just,  is  by  giv 
ing  ourselves  the  lie  ;  Speech  is  better  than  silence ; 
silence  is  better  than  speech  ;  — All  things  are  in  con 
tact  ;  every  atom  has  a  sphere  of  repulsion ;  —  Things 
are,  and  are  not,  at  the  same  time ;  —  and  the  like. 
All  the  universe  over,  there  is  but  one  thing,  this 
old-Two-Face,  creator-creature,  mind-matter,  right- 
wrong,  of  which  any  proposition  may  be  affirmed  or 
denied.  Very  fitly,  therefore,  I  assert,  that  every 
man  is  a  partialist,  that  nature  secures  him  as  an  in 
strument  by  self-conceit,  preventing  the  tendencies 
to  religion  and  science  ;  and  now  further  assert,  that, 
each  man's  genius  being  nearly  and  affectionately 
explored,  he  is  justified  in  his  individuality,  as  his 
nature  is  found  to  be  immense ;  and  now  I  add,  that 
every  man  is  a  universalist  also,  and  as  our  earth, 
whilst  it  spins  on  its  own  axis,  spins  all  the  time 
round  the  sun  through  the  celestial  spaces,  so  the 
least  of  its  rational  children,  the  most  dedicated  to 
his  private  affair,  works  out,  though  as  it  were  under 
a  disguise,  the  universal  problem.  We  fancy  men 
are  individuals ;  so  are  pumpkins ;  but  every  pump 
kin  in  the  field,  goes  through  every  point  of  pumpkin 
history.  The  rabid  democrat,  as  soon  as  he  is  sen 
ator  and  rich  man,  has  ripened  beyond  possibility  of 


182          NOMINALIST  AND   REALIST. 

sincere  radicalism  and  unless  he  can  resist  the  sun, 
he  must  be  conservative  the  remainder  of  his  days. 
Lord  Eldon  said  in  his  old  age,  "  that,  if  he  were  to 
begin  life  again,  he  would  be  damned  but  he  would 
begin  as  agitator." 

We  hide  this  universality,  if  we  can,  but  it  appears 
at  all  points.  We  are  as  ungrateful  as  children. 
There  is  nothing  we  cherish  and  strive  to  draw  to 
us,  but  in  some  hour  we  turn  and  rend  it.  We  keep 
a  running  fire  of  sarcasm  at  ignorance  and  the  life  of 
the  senses ;  then  goes  by,  perchance,  a  fair  girl,  a 
piece  of  life,  gay  and  happy,  and  making  the  com 
monest  offices  beautiful,  by  the  energy  and  heart 
with  which  she  does  them,  and  seeing  this,  we  ad 
mire  and  love  her  and  them,  and  say,  "  Lo  !  a  genu 
ine  creature  of  the  fair  earth,  not  dissipated,  or  too 
early  ripened  by  books,  philosophy,  religion,  society, 
or-  care  ! "  insinuating  a  treachery  and  contempt  for 
all  we  had  so  long  loved  and  wrought  in  ourselves 
and  others. 

If  we  could  have  any  security  against  moods  ! 
If  the  profoundest  prophet  could  be  holden  to  his 
words,  and  the  hearer  who  is  ready  to  sell  all  and 
join  the  crusade,  could  have  any  certificate  that  to 
morrow  his  prophet  shall  not  unsay  his  testimony  ! 
But  the  Truth  sits  veiled  there  on  the  Bench,  and 
never  interposes  an  adamantine  syllable ;  and  the 
most  sincere  and  revolutionary  doctrine,  put  as  if 
the  ark  of  God  were  carried  forward  some  furlongs, 
and  planted  there  for  the  succor  of  the  world,  shall 
in  a  few  weeks  be  coldly  set  aside  by  the  same 


NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST.  183 

speaker,  as  morbid;  "I  thought  I  was  right,  but  I 
was  not,"  —  and  the  same  immeasurable  credulity 
demanded  for  new  audacities.  If  we  were  not  of  all 
opinions  !  if  we  did  not  in  any  moment  shift  the 
platform  on  which  we  stand,  and  look  and  speak 
from  another !  if  there  could  be  any  regulation,  any 
*  one-hour-rule,'  that  a  man  should  never  leave  his 
point  of  view,  without  sound  of  trumpet.  I  am  al 
ways  insincere,  as  always  knowing  there  are  other 
moods. 

How  sincere  and  confidential  we  can  be,  saying 
all  that  lies  in  the  mind,  and  yet  go  away  feeling 
that  all  is  yet  unsaid,  from  the  incapacity  of  the 
parties  to  know  each  other,  although  they  use  the 
same  words  !  My  companion  assumes  to  know  my 
mood  and  habit  of  thought,  and  we  go  on  from  ex 
planation  to  explanation,  until  all  is  said  which 
words  can,  and  we  leave  matters  just  as  they  were 
at  first,  because  of  that  vicious  assumption.  Is  it 
that  every  man  believes  every  other  to  be  an  in 
curable  partialist,  and  himself  an  universalist  ?  I 
talked  yesterday  with  a  pair  of  philosophers :  I  en 
deavored  to  show  my  good  men  that  I  love  every 
thing  by  turns,  and  nothing  long ;  that  I  loved  the 
centre,  but  doated  on  the  superficies ;  that  I  loved 
man,  if  men  seemed  to  me  mice  and  rats ;  that  I 
revered  saints,  but  woke  up  glad  that  the  old  pagan 
world  stood  its  ground,  and  died  hard ;  that  I  was 
glad  of  men  of  every  gift  and  nobility,  but  would 
not  live  in  their  arms.  Could  they  but  once  under 
stand,  that  I  loved  to  know  that  they  existed,  and 


1 84          NOMINALIST  AND  REALIST. 

heartily  wished  them  Godspeed,  yet,  out  of  my 
poverty  of  life  and  thought,  had  no  word  of  wel 
come  for  them  when  they  came  to  see  me,  and  could 
well  consent  to  their  living  in  Oregon,  for  any  claim 
I  felt  on  them,  it  would  be  a  great  satisfaction. 


EMANCIPATION   ADDRESS. 

DELIVERED  IN  CONCORD,  MASS.,  AUGUST  i,  1844,  ON  THE 
ANNIVERSARY  OF  EMANCIPATION  OF  THE  NEGROES  IN 
THE  BRITISH  WEST  INDIES. 

FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW  CITIZENS: 

WE  are  met  to  exchange  congratulations  on  the 
anniversary  of  an  event  singular  in  the  history  of 
civilization ;  a  day  of  reason ;  of  the  clear  light ;  of 
that  which  makes  us  better  than  a  flock  of  birds  and 
beasts :  a  day,  which  gave  the  immense  fortification 
of  a  fact,  —  of  gross  history,  —  to  ethical  abstrac 
tions.  It  was  the  settlement,  as  far  as  a  great  Empire 
was  concerned,  of  a  question  on  which  almost  every 
leading  citizen  in  it  had  taken  care  to  record  his  vote  ; 
one  which  for  many  years  absorbed  the  attention  of 
the  best  and  most  eminent  of  mankind.  I  might 
well  hesitate,  coming  from  other  studies,  and  without 
the  smallest  claim  to  be  a  special  laborer  in  this  work 
of  humanity,  to  undertake  to  set  this  matter  before 
you ;  which  ought  rather  to  be  done  by  a  strict  co 
operation  of  many  well-advised  persons ;  but  I  shall 
not  apologize  for  my  weakness.  In  this  cause,  no 
man's  weakness  is  any  prejudice ;  it  has  a  thousand 
sons ;  if  one  man  cannot  speak,  ten  others  can ;  and 
whether  by  the  wisdom  of  its  friends,  or  by  the  folly 

185 


1 86  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

of  the  adversaries ;  by  speech  and  by  silence ;  by 
doing  and  by  omitting  to  do,  it  goes  forward. 
Therefore  I  will  speak,  —  or,  not  I,  but  the  might  of 
liberty  in  my  weakness.  The  subject  is  said  to  have 
the  property  of  making  dull  men  eloquent. 

It  has  been  in  all  men's  experience  a  marked  effect 
of  the  enterprise  in  behalf  of  the  African,  to  generate 
an  over-bearing  and  defying  spirit.  The  institution 
of  slavery  seems  to  its  opponent  to  have  but  one 
side,  and  he  feels  that  none  but  a  stupid  or  a  malig 
nant  person  can  hesitate  on  a  view  of  the  facts. 
Under  such  an  impulse,  I  was  about  to  say,  If  any 
cannot  speak,  or  cannot  hear  the  words  of  freedom, 
let  him  go  hence,  —  I  had  almost  said,  Creep  into 
your  grave,  the  universe  has  no  need  of  you  !  But 
I  have  thought  better:  let  him  not  go.  When  we 
consider  what  remains  to  be  done  for  this  interest, 
in  this  country,  the  dictates  of  humanity  make  us 
tender  of  such  as  are  not  yet  persuaded.  The  hard 
est  selfishness  is  to  be  borne  with.  Let  us  withhold 
every  reproachful,  and,  if  we  can,  every  indignant 
remark.  In  this  cause,  we  must  renounce  our  tem 
per,  and  the  risings  of  pride.  If  there  be  any  man 
who  thinks  the  ruin  of  a  race  of  men  a  small  matter, 
compared  with  the  last  decoration  and  completions 
of  his  own  comfort,  —  who  would  not  so  much  as 
part  with  his  ice  cream,  to  save  them  from  rapine 
and  manacles,  I  think,  I  must  not  hesitate  to  satisfy 
that  man,  that  also  his  cream  and  vanilla  are  safer 
and  cheaper,  by  placing  the  negro  nation  on  a  fair 
footing,  than  by  robbing  them.  If  the  Virginian 
piques  himself  on  the  picturesque  luxury  of  his 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS,  187 

vassalage,  on  the  heavy  Ethiopian  manners  of  his 
house-servants,  their  silent  obedience,  their  hue  of 
bronze,  their  turbaned  heads,  and  would  not  ex 
change  them  for  the  more  intelligent  but  precarious 
hired-service  of  whites,  I  shall  not  refuse  to  show 
him,  that  when  their  free-papers  are  made  out,  it 
will  still  be  their  interest  to  remain  on  his  estate,  and 
that  the  oldest  planters  of  Jamaica  are  convinced, 
that  it  is  cheaper  to  pay  wages,  than  to  own  the 
slave. 

The  history  of  mankind  interests  us  only  as  it 
exhibits  a  steady  gain  of  truth  and  right,  in  the  in 
cessant  conflict  which  it  records,  between  the  ma 
terial  and  the  moral  nature.  From  the  earliest 
monuments,  it  appears,  that  one  race  was  victim, 
and  served  the  other  races.  In  the  oldest  temples 
of  Egypt,  negro  captives  are  painted  on  the  tombs 
of  kings,  in  such  attitudes  as  to  show  that  they  are 
on  the  point  of  being  executed ;  and  Herodotus,  our 
oldest  historian,  relates  that  the  Troglodytes  hunted 
the  Ethiopians  in  four-horse-chariots.  From  the 
earliest  time,  the  negro  has  been  an  article  of  luxury 
to  the  commercial  nations.  So  has  it  been,  down 
to  the  day  that  has  just  dawned  on  the  world.  Lan 
guage  must  be  raked,  the  secrets  of  slaughter-houses 
and  infamous  holes  that  cannot  front  the  day,  must 
be  ransacked,  to  tell  what  negro-slavery  has  been. 
These  men,  our  benefactors,  as  they  are  producers 
of  corn  and  wine,  of  coffee,  of  tobacco,  of  cotton,  of 
sugar,  of  rurn,  and  brandy,  gentle  and  joyous  them 
selves,  and  producers  of  comfort  and  luxury  for  the 
civilized  world,  —  there  seated  in  the  finest  climates 


1 88  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

of  the  globe,  children  of  the  sun,  —  I  am  heart-sick 
when  I  read  how  they  came  there,  and  how  they  are 
kept  there.  Their  case  was  left  out  of  the  mind 
and  out  of  the  heart  of  their  brothers.  The  prizes 
of  society,  the  trumpet  of  fame,  the  privileges  of 
learning,  of  culture,  of  religion,  the  decencies  and 
joys  of  marriage,  honor,  obedience,  personal  author 
ity,  and  a  perpetual  melioration  into  a  finer  civility, 
these  were  for  all,  but  not  for  them.  For  the  negro, 
was  the  slave-ship  to  begin  with,  in  whose  filthy 
hold  he  sat  in  irons,  unable  to  lie  down ;  bad  food, 
and  insufficiency  of  that;  disfranchisement ;  no 
property  in  the  rags  that  covered  him  ;  no  marriage, 
no  right  in  the  poor  black  woman  that  cherished 
him  in  her  bosom,  —  no  right  to  the  children  of  his 
body ;  no  security  from  the  humors,  none  from  the 
crimes,  none  from  the  appetites  of  his  master :  toil, 
famine,  insult,  and  flogging;  and,  when  he  sunk 
in  the  furrow,  no  wind  of  good  fame  blew  over  him, 
no  priest  of  salvation  visited  him  with  glad  tidings ; 
but  he  went  down  to  death,  with  dusky  dreams  of 
African  shadow-catchers  and  Obeahs  hunting  him. 
Very  sad  was  the  negro  tradition,  that  the  Great 
Spirit,  in  the  beginning,  offered  the  black  man, 
whom  he  loved  better  than  the  buckra  or  white,  his 
choice  of  two  boxes,  a  big  and  a  little  one.  The 
black  man  was  greedy,  and  chose  the  largest.  "  The 
buckra  box  was  full  up  with  pen,  paper,  and  whip, 
and  the  negro  box  with  hoe  and  bill ;  and  hoe  and 
bill  for  negro  to  this  day." 

But  the  crude  element  of  good  in  human  affairs 
must  work  and  ripen,  spite  of  whips,  and  plantation- 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  189 

laws,  and  West  Indian  interest.  Conscience  rolled 
on  its  pillow,  and  could  not  sleep.  We  sympathize 
very  tenderly  here  with  the  poor  aggrieved  planter, 
of  whom  so  many  unpleasant  things  are  said ;  but 
if  we  saw  the  whip  applied  to  old  men,  to  tender 
women ;  and,  undeniably,  though  I  shrink  to  say 
so,  —  pregnant  women  set  in  the  treadmill  for  refus 
ing  to  work,  when,  not  they,  but  the  eternal  law  of 
animal  nature  refused  to  work ;  —  if  we  saw  men's 
backs  flayed  with  cowhides,  and  "hot  rum  poured 
on,  superinduced  with  brine  or  pickle,  rubbed  in 
with  a  cornhusk,  in  the  scorching  heat  of  the  sun ;  " 
—  if  we  saw  the  runaways  hunted  with  blood-hounds 
into  swamps  and  hills :  and,  in  cases  of  passion,  a 
planter  throwing  his  negro  into  a  copper  of  boiling 
cane-juice,  —  if  we  saw  these  things  with  eyes,  we 
too  should  wince.  They  are  not  pleasant  sights. 
The  blood  is  moral :  the  blood  is  anti-slavery :  it 
runs  cold  in  the  veins :  the  stomach  rises  with  dis 
gust,  and  curses  slavery.  Well,  so  it  happened ;  a 
good  man  or  woman,  a  country-boy  or  girl,  it  would 
so  fall  out,  once  in  a  while  saw  these  injuries,  and 
had  the  indiscretion  to  tell  of  them.  The  horrid 
story  ran  and  flew ;  the  winds  blew  it  all  over  the 
world.  They  who  heard  it,  asked  their  rich  and 
great  friends,  if  it  was  true,  or  only  missionary  lies. 
The  richest  and  greatest,  the  prime  minister  of  Eng 
land,  the  king's  privy  council  were  obliged  to  say, 
that  it  was  too  true.  It  became  plain  to  all  men,  the 
more  this  business  was  looked  into,  that  the  crimes 
and  cruelties  of  the  slave-traders  and  slave-owners 
could  not  be  overstated.  The  more  it  was  searched, 


t 

190  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

the  more  shocking  anecdotes  came  up,  —  things  not 
to  be  spoken.  Humane  persons  who  were  informed 
of  the  reports,  insisted  on  proving  them.  Granville 
Sharpe  was  accidentally  made  acquainted  with  the 
sufferings  of  a  slave,  whom  a  West  Indian  planter 
had  brought  with  him  to  London,  and  had  beaten 
with  a  pistol  on  his  head  so  badly,  that  his  whole 
body  became  diseased,  and  the  man  useless  to  his 
master,  who  left  him  to  go  whither  he  pleased.  The 
man  applied  to  Mr.  William  Sharpe,  a  charitable 
surgeon,  who  attended  the  diseases  of  the  poor.  In 
process  of  time  he  was  healed.  Granville  Sharpe 
found  him  at  his  brother's,  and  procured  a  place  for 
him  in  an  apothecary's  shop.  The  master  accidentally 
met  his  recovered  slave,  and  instantly  endeavored  to 
get  possession  of  him  again.  Sharpe  protected  the 
slave.  In  consulting  with  the  lawyers,  they  told 
Sharpe  the  laws  were  against  him.  Sharpe  would 
not  believe  it ;  no  prescription  on  earth  could  ever 
render  such  iniquities  legal.  "  But  the  decisions  are 
against  you,  and  Lord  Mansfield,  now  chief  justice  of 
England,  leans  to  the  decisions."  Sharpe  instantly 
sat  down  and  gave  himself  to  the  study  of  English 
law  for  more  than  two  years,  until  he  had  proved 
that  the  opinions  relied  on  of  Talbot  and  Yorke, 
were  incompatible  with  the  former  English  decisions, 
and  with  the  whole  spirit  of  English  law.  He  pub 
lished  his  book  in  1769,  and  he  so  filled  the  heads 
and  hearts  of  his  advocates,  that  when  he  brought 
the  case  of  George  Somerset,  another  slave,  before 
Lord  Mansfield,  the  slavish  decisions  were  set  aside 
and  equity  affirmed.  There  is  a  sparkle  of  God's 


EMANCIPA  TION  ADDRESS.  1 9 1 

righteousness  in  Lord  Mansfield's  judgment,  which 
does  the  heart  good.  Very  unwilling  had  that  great 
lawyer  been  to  reverse  the  late  decisions ;  he  sug 
gested  twice  from  the  bench,  in  the  course  of  the 
trial,  how  the  question  might  be  got  rid  of:  but  the 
hint  was  not  taken  ;  the  case  was  adjourned  again  and 
again,  and  judgment  delayed.  At  last  judgment  was 
demanded,  and  on  the  22nd  June,  1772,  Lord  Mans 
field  is  reported  to  have  decided  in  these  words  : 

"  Immemorial  usage  preserves  the  memory  of  posi 
tive  law,  long  after  all  traces  of  the  occasion,  reason, 
authority,  and  time  of  its  introduction,  are  lost ;  and 
in  a  case  so  odious  as  the  condition  of  slaves,  must 
be  taken  strictly;  (tracing  the  subject  to  natural 
principles,  the  claim  of  slavery  never  can  be  sup 
ported.)  The  power  claimed  by  this  return  never 
was  in  use  here.  We  cannot  say  the  cause  set  forth 
by  this  return  is  allowed  or  approved  of  by  the  laws 
of  this  kingdom;  and  therefore  the  man  must  be 
discharged." 

This  decision  established  the  principle  that  the 
"  air  of  England  is  too  pure  for  any  slave  t£  breathe," 
but  the  wrongs  in  the  islands  were  not  thereby 
touched.  Public  attention,  however,  was  drawn  that 
way,  and  the  methods  of  the  stealing  and  the  trans 
portation  from  Africa,  became  noised  abroad.  The 
Quakers  got  the  story.  In  their  plain  meeting 
houses,  and  prim  dwellings,  this  dismal  agitation  got 
entrance.  They  were  rich ;  they  owned  for  debt, 
or  by  inheritance,  island  property ;  they  were  relig 
ious,  tender-hearted  men  and  women ;  and  they  had 
to  hear  the  news  and  digest  it  as  they  could.  Six 


192  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

Quakers  met  in  London  on  the  6th  July,  1783; 
William  Dillwyn,  Samuel  Hoar,  George  Harrison, 
Thomas  Knowles,  John  Lloyd,  Joseph  Woods,  "  to 
consider  what  step  they  should  take  for  the  relief  and 
liberation  of  the  negro  slaves  in  the  West  Indies, 
and  for  the  discouragement  of  the  slave-trade  on  the 
coast  of  Africa."  They  made  friends  and  raised 
money  for  the  slave ;  they  interested  their  Yearly 
Meeting ;  and  all  English  and  all  American  Quakers. 
John  Woolman  of  New  Jersey,  whilst  yet  an  appren 
tice,  was  uneasy  in  his  mind  when  he  was  set  to 
write  a  bill  of  sale  of  a  negro  for  his  master.  He 
gave  his  testimony  against  the  traffic,  in  Maryland 
and  Virginia.  Thomas  Clarkson  was  a  youth  at 
Cambridge,  England,  when  the  subject  given  out  for 
a  Latin  prize  dissertation,  was,  "Is  it  right  to  make 
slaves  of  others  against  their  will  ?  "  He  wrote  an 
essay  and  won  the  prize ;  but  he  wrote  too  well  for 
his  own  peace ;  be  began  to  ask  himself,  if  these 
things  could  be  true ;  and  if  they  were,  he  could  no 
longer  rest.  He  left  Cambridge  ;  he  fell  in  with  the 
six  Quaker^.  They  engaged  him  to  act  for  them. 
He  himself  interested  Mr.  Wilberforce  in  the  matter. 
The  shipmasters  in  that  trade  were  the  greatest  mis 
creants,  and  guilty  of  every  barbarity  to  their  own 
crews.  Clarkson  went  to  Bristol,  made  himself  ac 
quainted  with  the  interior  of  the  slaveships,  and  the 
details  of  the  trade.  The  facts  confirmed  his  senti 
ment,  "that  Providence  had  never  made  that  to  be 
wise,  which  was  immoral,  and  that  the  slave  trade 
was  as  impolitic  as  it  was  unjust ;  "  that  it  was  found 
peculiarly  fatal  to  those  employed  in  it.  More  sea- 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  193 

men  died  in  that  trade,  in  one  year,  than  in  the  whole* 
remaining  trade  of  the  country  in  two.  Mr.  Pitt  and 
Mr.  Fox  were  drawn  into  the  generous  enterprise. 
In  1788,  the  house  of  Commons  voted  Parliamentary 
inquiry.  In  1791,  a  bill  to  abolish  the  trade  was 
brought  in  by  Wilberforce,  and  supported  by  him, 
and  by  Fox,  and  Burke,  and  Pitt,  with  the  utmost 
ability  and  faithfulness  ;  resisted  by  the  planters,  and 
the  whole  West  Indian  interest,  and  lost.  During 
the  next  sixteen  years,  ten  times,  year  after  year,  the 
attempt  was  renewed  by  Mr.  Wilberforce,  and  ten 
times  defeated  by  the  planters.  The  king,  and  all 
the  royal  family  but  one,  were  against  it.  These  de 
bates  are  instructive,  as  they  show  on  what  grounds 
the  trade  was  assailed  and  defended.  Every  thing 
generous,  wise,  and  sprightly  is  sure  to  come  to  the 
attack.  On  the  other  part,  are  found  cold  prudence, 
barefaced  selfishness,  and  silent  votes.  But  the  na 
tion  was  aroused  to  enthusiasm.  Every  horrid  fact 
became  known.  In  1791,  three  hundred  thousand 
persons  in  Britain  pledged  themselves  to  abstain  from 
all  articles  of  island  produce.  The  planters  were 
obliged  to  give  way ;  and  in  1807,  on  the  25th  March, 
the  bill  passed,  and  the  slave-trade  was  abolished. 

The  assailants  of  slavery  had  early  agreed  to  limit 
their  political  action  on  this  subject  to  the  abolition 
of  the  trade,  but  Granville  Sharpe,  as  a  matter  of 
conscience,  whilst  he  acted  as  chairman  of  the  Lon 
don  Committee,  felt  constrained  to  record  his  pro 
test  against  the  limitation,  declaring  that  slavery  was 
as  much  a  crime  against  the  Divine  law,  as  the  slave- 
trade.  The  trade,  under  false  flags,  went  on  as 


194  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

before.  In  1821,  according  to  official  documents  pre 
sented  to  the  American  government  by  the  Coloni 
zation  Society,  200,000  slaves  were  deported  from 
Africa.  Nearly  30,000  were  landed  in  the  port  of 
Havana  alone.  In  consequence  of  the  dangers  of 
the  trade  growing  out  of  the  act  of  abolition,  ships 
were  built  sharp  for  swiftness,  and  with  a  frightful 
disregard  of  the  comfort  of  the  victims  they  were 
destined  to  transport.  They  carried  five,  six,  even 
seven  hundred  stowed  in  a  ship  built  so  narrow  as 
to  be  unsafe,  being  made  just  broad  enough  on  the 
beam  to  keep  the  sea.  In  attempting  to  make  its 
escape  from  the  pursuit  of  a  man-of-war,  one  ship 
flung  five  hundred  slaves  alive  into  the  sea.  These 
facts  went  into  Parliament.  In  the  islands,  was  an 
ominous  state  of  cruel  and  licentious  society ;  every 
house  had  a  dungeon  attached  to  it ;  every  slave  was 
worked  by  the  whip.  There  is  no  end  to  the  tragic 
anecdotes  in  the  municipal  records  of  the  colonies. 
The  boy  was  set  to  strip  and  to  flog  his  own  mother 
to  blood,  for  a  small  offence.  Looking  in  the  face 
of  his  master  by  the  negro  was  held  to  be  violence 
by  the  island  courts.  He  was  worked  sixteen  hours, 
and  his  ration  by  law,  in  some  islands,  was  a  pint  of 
flour  and  one  salt  herring  a  day.  He  suffered  insult, 
stripes,  mutilation,  at  the  humor  of  the  master :  iron 
collars  were  riveted  on  their  necks  with  iron  prongs 
ten  inches  long ;  capsicum  pepper  was  rubbed  in  the 
eyes  of  the  females ;  and  they  were  done  to  death 
with  the  most  shocking  levity  between  the  master 
and  manager,  without  fine  or  inquiry.  And  when, 
at  last,  some  Quakers,  Moravians,  and  Wesleyan 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  195 

and  Baptist  missionaries,  following  in  the  steps  of 
Carey  and  Ward  in  the  East  Indies,  had  been  moved 
to  come  and  cheer  the  poor  victim  with  the  hope  of 
some  reparation,  in  a  future  world,  of  the  wrongs  he 
suffered  in  this,  these  missionaries  were  persecuted 
by  the  planters,  their  lives  threatened,  their  chapels 
burned,  and  the  negroes  furiously  forbidden  to  go 
near  them.  These  outrages  rekindled  the  flame  of 
British  indignation.  Petitions  poured  into  Parlia 
ment  :  a  million  persons  signed  their  names  to  these ; 
and  in  1833,  on  the  I4th  May,  Lord  Stanley,  minis 
ter  of  the  colonies,  introduced  into  the  House  of 
Commons  his  bill  for  the  Emancipation. 

The  scheme  of  the  minister,  with  such  modifica 
tion  as  it  received  in  the  legislature,  proposed  gradual 
emancipation;  that  on  1st  August,  1834,  all  persons 
now  slaves  should  be  entitled  to  be  registered  as 
apprenticed  laborers,  and  to  acquire  thereby  all  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  freemen,  subject  to  the  re 
striction  of  laboring  under  certain  conditions.  These 
conditions  were,  that  the  praedials  should  owe  three 
fourths  of  the  profits  of  their  labor  to  their  masters 
for  six  years,  and  the  nonpraedials  for  four  years. 
The  other  fourth  of  the  apprentice's  time  was  to  be 
his  own,  which  he  might  sell  to  his  master,  or  to 
other  persons ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  term  of  years 
fixed,  he  should  be  free. 

With  these  provisions  and  conditions,  the  bill 
proceeds,  in  the  twelfth  section,  in  the  following 
terms.  "Be  it  enacted,  that  all  and  every  person 
.who,  on  the  ist  August,  1834,  shall  be  holden  in 
slavery  within  any  such  British  colony  as  aforesaid, 


196  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

shall  upon  and  from  and  after  the  said  1st  August, 
become  and  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes  free,  and 
discharged  of  and  from  all  manner  of  slavery,  and 
shall  be  absolutely  and  forever  manumitted ;  and  that 
the  children  thereafter  born  to  any  such  persons,  and 
the  offspring  of  such  children,  shall,  in  like  manner, 
be  free  from  their  birth  ;  and  that  from  and  after  the 
ist  August,  1834,  slavery  shall  be  and  is  hereby  ut 
terly  and  forever  abolished  and  declared  unlawful 
throughout  the  British  colonies,  plantations,  and 
possessions  abroad." 

The  ministers,  having  estimated  the  slave  prod 
ucts  of  the  colonies  in  annual  exports  of  sugar,  rum, 
and  coffee,  at  ,£1,500,000  per  annum,  estimated  the 
total  value  of  the  slave-property  at  30,000,000  pounds 
sterling,  and  proposed  to  give  the  planters,  as  a  com 
pensation  for  so  much  of  the  slaves1  time,  as  the  act 
took  from  them,  20,000,000  pounds  sterling,  to  be 
divided  into  nineteen  shares  for  the  nineteen  colo 
nies,  and  to  be  distributed  to  the  owners  of  slaves  by 
commissioners,  whose  appointment  and  duties  were 
regulated  by  the  Act.  After  much  debate,  the  bill 
passed  by  large  majorities.  The  apprenticeship  sys 
tem  is  understood  to  have  proceeded  from  Lord 
Brougham,  and  was  by  him  urged  on  his  colleagues, 
who,  it  is  said,  were  inclined  to  the  policy  of  imme 
diate  emancipation. 

The  colonial  legislatures  received  the  act  of  Par 
liament  with  various  degrees  of  displeasure,  and,  of 
course,  every  provision  of  the  bill  was  criticised  with 
severity.  The  new  relation  between  the  master  and 
the  apprentice,  it  was  feared,  would  be  mischievous ; 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  1 97 

for  the  bill  required  the  appointment  of  magistrates, 
who  should  hear  every  complaint  of  the  apprentice, 
and  see  that  justice  was  done  him.  It  was  feared 
that  the  interest  of  the  master  and  servant  would  now 
produce  perpetual  discord  between  them.  In  the 
island  of  Antigua,  containing  37,000  people,  30,000 
being  negroes,  these  objections  had  such  weight, 
that  the  legislature  rejected  the  apprenticeship  sys 
tem,  and  adopted  absolute  emancipation.  In  the 
other  islands  the  system  of  the  ministry  was  ac 
cepted. 

The  reception  of  it  by  the  negro  population  was 
equal  in  nobleness  to  the  deed.  The  negroes  were 
called  together  by  the  missionaries  and  by  the  plant 
ers,  and  the  news  explained  to  them.  On  the  night 
of  the  3  ist  July,  they  met  everywhere  at  their 
churches  and  chapels,  and  at  midnight,  when  the 
clock  struck  twelve,  on  their  knees,  the  silent,  weep 
ing  assembly  became  men ;  they  rose  and  embraced 
each  other ;  they  cried,  they  sung,  they  prayed,  they 
were  wild  with  joy,  but  there  was  no  riot,  no  feast 
ing.  I  have  never  read  anything  in  history  more 
touching  than  the  moderation  of  the  negroes.  Some 
American  captains  left  the  shore  and  put  to  sea,  an 
ticipating  insurrection  and  general  murder.  With 
far  different  thoughts,  the  negroes  spent  the  hour  in 
their  huts  and  chapels.  I  will  not  repeat  to  you  the 
well-known  paragraph,  in  which  Messrs.  Thome  and 
Kimball,  the  commissioners  sent  out  in  the  year  1837 
by  the  American  Anti-slavery  Society,  describe  the 
occurrences  of  that  night  in  the  island  of  Antigua. 
It  has  been  quoted  in  every  newspaper,  and  Dr. 


198  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

Charming  has  given  it  additional  fame.  But  I  must 
be  indulged  in  quoting  a  few  sentences  from  the 
pages  that  follow  it,  narrating  the  behavior  of  the 
emancipated  people  on  the  next  day. 

1  "  The  first  of  August  came  on  Friday,  and  a 
release  was  proclaimed  from  all  work  until  the  next 
Monday.  The  day  was  chiefly  spent  by  the  great 
mass  of  the  negroes  in  the  churches  and  chapels. 
The  clergy  and  missionaries  throughout  the  island 
were  actively  engaged,  seizing  the  opportunity  to 
enlighten  the  people  on  all  the  duties  and  responsi 
bilities  of  their  new  relation,  and  urging  them  to 
the  attainment  of  that  higher  liberty  with  which 
Christ  maketh  his  children  free.  In  every  quarter, 
we  were  assured,  the  day  was  like  a  sabbath.  Work 
had  ceased.  The  hum  of  business  was  still :  tran 
quillity  pervaded  the  towns  and  country.  The  plant 
ers  informed  us,  that  they  went  to  the  chapels  where 
their  own  people  were  assembled,  greeted  them, 
shook  hands  with  them,  and  exchanged  the  most 
hearty  good  wishes.  At  Grace  Hill,  there  were  at 
least  a  thousand  persons  around  the  Moravian  Chapel 
who  could  not  get  in.  For  once  the  house  of  God 
suffered  violence,  and  the  violent  took  it  by  force. 
At  Grace  Bay,  the  people,  all  dressed  in  white, 
formed  a  procession,  and  walked  arm  in  arm  into  the 
chapel.  We  were  told  that  the  dress  of  the  negroes 
on  that  occasion  was  uncommonly  simple  and  mod- 

1  Emancipation  in  the  West  Indies:  a  Six  Months  Tour 
in  Antigua,  Barbadoes,  and  Jamaica,  in  the  year  1837.  By 
J.  A.  Thome  and  J.  H.  Kimball.  New  York,  1838.  —  pp. 
146,  147. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  199 

est.  There  was  not  the  least  disposition  to  gayety. 
Throughout  the  island,  there  was  not  a  single  dance 
known  of,  either  day  or  night,  nor  so  much  as  a  fiddle 
played.1' 

On  the  next  Monday  morning,  with  very  few  ex 
ceptions,  every  negro  on  every  plantation  was  in  the 
field  at  his  work.  In  some  places,  they  waited  to 
see  their  master,  to  know  what  bargain  he  would 
make ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  throughout  the  islands, 
nothing  painful  occurred.  In  June,  1835,  the  minis 
ters,  Lord  Aberdeen  and  Sir  George  Grey,  declared 
to  the  Parliament,  that  the  system  worked  well ;  that 
now  for  ten  months,  from  1st  August,  1834,  no  in 
jury  or  violence  had  been  offered  to  any  white,  and 
only  one  black  had  been  hurt  in  800,000  negroes : 
and,  contrary  to  many  sinister  predictions,  that  the 
new  crop  of  island  produce  would  not  fall  short  of 
that  of  the  last  year. 

But  the  habit  of  oppression  was  not  destroyed  by 
a  law  and  a  day  of  jubilee.  It  soon  appeared  in  all 
the  islands,  that  the  planters  were  disposed  to  use 
their  old  privileges,  and  overwork  the  apprentices ; 
to  take  from  them,  under  various  pretences,  their 
fourth  part  of  their  time ;  and  to  exert  the  same 
licentious  despotism  as  before.  The  negroes  com 
plained  to  the  magistrates,  and  to  the  governor.  In 
the  island  of  Jamaica,  this  ill  blood  continually  grew 
worse.  The  governors,  Lord  Belmore,  the  Earl  of 
Sligo,  and  afterwards  Sir  Lionel  Smith,  (a  governor 
of  their  own  class,  who  had  been  sent  out  to  gratify 
the  planters,)  threw  themselves  on  the  side  of  the 
oppressed,  and  are  at  constant  quarrel  with  the  angry 


200  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

and  bilious  island  legislature.  Nothing  can  exceed 
the  ill  humor  and  sulkiness  of  the  addresses  of  this 
assembly. 

I  may  here  express  a  general  remark,  which  the  his 
tory  of  slavery  seems  to  justify,  that  it  is  not  founded 
solely  on  the  avarice  of  the  planter.  We  sometimes 
say,  the  planter  does  not  want  slaves,  he  only  wants 
the  immunities  and  the  luxuries  which  the  slaves 
yield  him ;  give  him  money,  give  him  a  machine  that 
will  yield  him  as  much  money  as  the  slaves,  and  he 
will  thankfully  let  them  go.  He  has  no  love  of 
slavery,  he  wants  luxury,  and  he  will  pay  even  this 
price  of  crime  and  danger  for  it.  But  I  think  expe 
rience  does  not  warrant  this  favorable  distinction, 
but  shows  the  existence,  beside  the  covetousness,  of 
a  bitter  element,  the  love  of  power,  the  voluptuous 
ness  of  holding  a  human  being  in  his  absolute  con 
trol.  We  sometimes  observe,  that  spoiled  children 
contract  a  habit  of  annoying  quite  wantonly  those 
who  have  charge  of  them,  and  seem  to  meas 
ure  their  own  sense  of  well-being,  not  by  what 
they  do,  but  by  the  degree  of  reaction  they  can 
cause.  It  is  vain  to  get  rid  of  them  by  not  minding 
them :  if  purring  and  humming  is  not  noticed,  they 
squeal  and  scree  _h  ;  then  if  you  chide  and  console 
them,  they  find  the  experiment  succeeds,  and  they 
begin  again.  The  child  will  sit  in  your  arms  con 
tented,  provided  you  do  nothing.  If  you  take  a 
book  and  read,  he  commences  hostile  operations. 
The  planter  is  the  spoiled  child  of  his  unnatural 
habits,  and  has  contracted  in  his  indolent  and  luxu 
rious  climate  the  need  of  excitement  by  irritating  and 
tormentin^  his  slave. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  2OI 

Sir  Lionel  Smith  defended  the  poor  negro  girls, 
prey  to  the  licentiousness  of  the  planters ;  they  shall 
not  be  whipped  with  tamarind  rods,  if  they  do  not 
comply  with  their  master's  will ;  he  defended  the 
negro  women ;  they  should  not  be  made  to  dig  the 
cane-holes,  (which  is  the  very  hardest  of  the  field- 
work  ;)  he  defended  the  Baptist  preachers  and  the 
stipendiary  magistrates,  who  are  the  negroes1  friends, 
from  the  power  of  the  planter.  The  power  of  the 
planters,  however,  to  oppress,  was  greater  than  the 
power  of  the  apprentice  and  of  his  guardians  to 
withstand.  Lord  Brougham  and  Mr.  Buxton  de 
clared  that  the  planter  had  not  fulfilled  his  part  in 
the  contract,  whilst  the  apprentices  had  fulfilled 
theirs ;  and  demanded  that  the  emancipation  should 
be  hastened,  and  the  apprenticeship  abolished. 
Parliament  was  compelled  to  pass  additional  laws  for 
the  defence  and  security  of  the  negro,  and  in  ill 
humor  at  these  acts,  the  great  island  of  Jamaica, 
with  a  population  of  half  a  million,  and  300,000  ne 
groes,  early  in  1838,  resolved  to  throw  up  the  two 
remaining  years  of  apprenticeship,  and  to  emanci 
pate  absolutely  on  the  ist  August,  1838.  In  Brit 
ish  Guiana,  in  Dominica,  the  same  resolution  had 
been  earlier  taken  with  more  good  will ;  and  the 
other  islands  fell  into  the  measure ;  so  that  on  the 
ist  August,  1838,  the  shackles  dropped  from  every 
British  slave.  The  accounts  which  we  have  from 
all  parties,  both  from  the  planters,  and  those  too  who 
were  originally  most  opposed  to  the  measure,  and 
from  the  new  freemen,  are  of  the  most  satisfactory 
kind.  The  manner  in  which  the  new  festival  was 


202  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

celebrated,  brings  tears  to  the  eyes.  The  First  of 
August,  1838,  was  observed  in  Jamaica  as  a  day  of 
thanksgiving  and  prayer.  Sir  Lionel  Smith,  the 
governor,  writes  to  the  British  Ministry,  "It  is  impos 
sible  for  me  to  do  justice  to  the  good  order,  de 
corum,  and  gratitude,  which  the  whole  laboring 
population  manifested  on  that  happy  occasion. 
Though  joy  beamed  on  every  countenance,  it  was 
throughout  tempered  with  solemn  thankfulness  to 
God,  and  the  churches  and  chapels  were  everywhere 
filled  with  these  happy  people  in  humble  offering  of 
praise." 

The  Queen,  in  her  speech  to  the  Lords  and  Com 
mons,  praised  the  conduct  of  the  emancipated  popu 
lation :  and  in  1840,  Sir  Charles  Metcalfe,  the  new 
governor  of  Jamaica,  in  his  address  to  the  Assem 
bly,  expressed  himself  to  that  late  exasperated  body 
in  these  terms  :  "  All  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  the  island,  know  that  our  emancipated 
population  are  as  free,  as  independent  in  their  con 
duct,  as  well-conditioned,  as  much  in  the  enjoyment 
of  abundance,  and  as  strongly  sensible  of  the  bless 
ings  of  liberty,  as  any  that  we  know  of  in  any 
country.  All  disqualifications  and  distinctions  of 
color  have  ceased ;  men  of  all  colors  have  equal 
rights  in  law,  and  an  equal  footing  in  society,  and 
every  man's  position  is  settled  by  the  same  circum 
stances  which  regulate  that  point  in  other  free 
countries,  where  no  difference  of  color  exists.  It 
may  be  asserted,  without  fear  of  denial,  that  the 
former  slaves  of  Jamaica  are  now  as  secure  in  all 
social  rights,  as  freeborn  Britons."  He  further  de- 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  203 

scribes  the  erection  of  numerous  churches,  chapels, 
and  schools,  which  the  new  population  required, 
and  adds  that  more  are  still  demanded.  The  legis 
lature,  in  their  reply,  echo  the  governor's  statement, 
and  say,  "The  peaceful  demeanor  of  the  emanci 
pated  population  redounds  to  their  own  credit,  and 
affords  a  proof  of  their  continued  comfort  and  pros 
perity." 

I  said,  this  event  is  signal  in  the  history  of  civili 
zation.  There  are  many  styles  of  civilization,  and 
not  one  only.  Ours  is  full  of  barbarities.  There 
are  many  faculties  in  man,  each  of  which  takes  its 
turn  of  activity,  and  that  faculty  which  is  para 
mount  in  any  period,  and  exerts  itself  through  the 
strongest  nation,  determines  the  civility  of  that 
age ;  and  each  age  thinks  its  own  the  perfection  of 
reason.  Our  culture  is  very  cheap  and  intelligible. 
Unroof  any  house,  and  you  shall  find  it.  The  well- 
being  consists  in  having  a  sufficiency  of  coffee  and 
toast,  with  a  daily  newspaper ;  a  well-glazed  parlor, 
with  marbles,  mirror,  and  centre-table ;  and  the  ex 
citement  of  a  few  parties  and  a  few  rides  in  a  year. 
Such  as  one  house,  such  are  all.  The  owner  of  a 
New  York  manor  imitates  the  mansion  and  equi 
page  of  the  London  nobleman  ;  the  Boston  merchant 
rivals  his  brother  of  New  York ;  and  the  villages 
copy  Boston.  There  have  been  nations  elevated  by 
great  sentiments.  Such  was  the  civility  of  Sparta 
and  the  Dorian  race,  whilst  it  was  defective  in  some 
of  the  chief  elements  of  ours.  That  of  Athens, 
again,  lay  in  an  intellect  dedicated  to  beauty.  That 
of  Asia  Minor  in  poetry,  music,  and  arts ;  that  of 


204  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

Palestine  in  piety;  that  of  Rome  in  military  arts 
and  virtues,  exalted  by  a  prodigious  magnanimity ; 
that  of  China  and  Japan  in  the  last  exaggeration 
of  decorum  and  etiquette.  Our  civility,  England 
determines  the  style  of,  inasmuch  as  England  is  the 
strongest  of  the  family  of  existing  nations,  and  as  we 
are  the  expansion  of  that  people.  It  is  that  of  a  trad 
ing  nation  ;  it  is  a  shopkeeping  civility.  The  English 
lord  is  a  retired  shopkeeper,  and  has  the  prejudices 
and  timidities  of  that  profession.  And  we  are  shop 
keepers,  and  have  acquired  the  vices  and  virtues  that 
belong  to  trade.  We  peddle,  we  truck,  we  sail,  we 
row,  we  ride  in  cars,  we  creep  in  teams,  we  go  in 
canals  —  to  market,  and  for  the  sale  of  goods.  The 
national  aim  and  employment  streams  into  our  ways 
of  thinking,  our  laws,  our  habits,  and  our  manners. 
The  customer  is  the  immediate  jewel  of  our  souls. 
Him  we  natter,  him  we  feast,  compliment,  vote  for, 
and  will  not  contradict.  It  was  or  it  seemed  the 
dictate  of  trade,  to  keep  the  negro  down.  We  had 
found  a  race  who  were  less  warlike,  and  less  energetic 
shopkeepers  than  we ;  who  had  very  little  skill  in 
trade.  We  found  it  very  convenient  to  keep  them  at 
work,  since,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  whipping,  we  could 
get  their  work  for  nothing  but  their  board  and  the 
cost  of  whips.  What  if  it  cost  a  few  unpleasant 
scenes  on  the  coast  of  Africa?  That  was  a  great  way 
off;  and  the  scenes  could  be  endured  by  some  sturdy, 
unscrupulous  fellows,  who  could  go  for  high  wages, 
and  bring  us  the  men,  and  need  not  trouble  our  ears 
with  the  disagreeable  particulars.  If  any  mention 
was  made  of  homicide,  madness,  adultery,  and  intol- 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  205 

erable  tortures,  we  would  let  the  church  bells  ring 
louder,  the  church-organ  swell  its  peal,  and  drown 
the  hideous  sound.  The  sugar  they  raised  was  excel 
lent :  nobody  tasted  blood  in  it.  The  coffee  was 
fragrant ;  the  tobacco  was  incense  ;  the  brandy  made 
nations  happy  ;  the  cotton  clothed  the  world.  What  ! 
all  raised  by  these  men,  and  no  wages  ?  Excellent ! 
What  a  convenience  !  They  seemed  created  by  prov 
idence  to  bear  the  heat  and  the  whipping,  and  make 
these  fine  articles. 

But  unhappily,  most  unhappily,  gentlemen,  man  is 
born  with  intellect,  as  well  as  with  a  love  of  sugar, 
and  with  a  sense  of  justice,  as  well  as  a  taste  for 
strong  drink.  These  ripened,  as  well  as  those.  You 
could  not  educate  him,  you  could  not  get  any  poetry, 
any  wisdom,  any  beauty  in  woman,  any  strong  and 
commanding  character  in  man,  but  these  absurdities 
would  still  come  flashing  out,  —  these  absurdities  of 
a  demand  for  justice,  a  generosity  for  the  weak  and 
oppressed.  Unhappily,  too,  for  the  planter,  the  laws 
of  nature  are  in  harmony  with  each  other :  that  which 
the  head  and  the  heart  demand,  is  found  to  be,  in 
the  long  run,  for  what  the  grossest  calculator  calls 
his  advantage.  The  moral  sense  is  always  supported 
by  the  permanent  interest  of  the  parties.  Else,  I 
know  not  how,  in  our  world,  any  good  would  ever 
get  done.  It  was  shown  to  the  planters  that  they,  as 
well  as  the  negroes,  were  slaves ;  that  though  they 
paid  no  wages,  they  got  very  poor  work ;  that  their 
estates  were  ruining  them,  under  the  finest  climate ; 
and  that  they  needed  the  severest  monopoly  laws  at 
home  to  keep  them  from  bankruptcy.  The  oppres- 


206  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

sion  of  the  slave  recoiled  on  them.  They  were  full 
of  vices ;  their  children  were  lumps  of  pride,  sloth, 
sensuality  and  rottenness.  The  position  of  woman 
was  nearly  as  bad  as  it  could  be,  and,  like  other  rob 
bers,  they  could  not  sleep  in  security.  Many  plant 
ers  have  said,  since  the  emancipation,  that,  before 
that  day,  they  were  the  greatest  slaves  on  the  estates. 
Slavery  is  no  scholar,  no  improver;  it  does  not 
love  the  whistle  of  the  railroad ;  it  does  not  love 
the  newspaper,  the  mailbag,  a  college,  a  book,  or  a 
preacher  who  has  the  absurd  whim  of  saying  what  he 
thinks  ;  it  does  not  increase  the  white  population  ;  it 
does  not  improve  the  soil ;  everything  goes  to  decay. 
For  these  reasons,  the  islands  proved  bad  customers 
to  England.  It  was  very  easy  for  manufacturers  less 
shrewd  than  those  of  Birmingham  and  Manchester 
to  see,  that  if  the  state  of  things  in  the  islands  was 
altered,  if  the  slaves  had  wages,  the  slaves  would  be 
clothed,  would  build  houses,  would  fill  them  with 
tools,  with  pottery,  with  crockery,  with  hardware ; 
and  negro  women  love  fine  clothes  as  well  as  white 
women.  In  every  naked  negro  of  those  thousands, 
they  saw  a  future  customer.  Meantime,  they  saw 
further,  that  the  slave-trade,  by  keeping  in  barbarism 
the  whole  coast  of  eastern  Africa,  deprives  them  of 
countries  and  nations  of  customers,  if  once  freedom 
and  civility,  and  European  manners  could  get  a  foot 
hold  there.  But  the  trade  could  not  be  abolished, 
whilst  this  hungry  West  Indian  market,  with  an  appe 
tite  like  the  grave,  cried,  "  More,  more,  bring  me  a 
hundred  a  day ; "  they  could  not  expect  any  mitiga 
tion  in  the  madness  of  the  poor  African  war-chiefs. 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  207 

These  considerations  opened  the  eyes  of  the  dullest 
in  Britain.  More  than  this,  the  West  Indian  estate 
was  owned  or  mortgaged  in  England,  and  the  owner 
and  the  mortgagee  had  very  plain  intimations  that 
the  feeling  of  English  liberty  was  gaining  every  hour 
new  mass  and  velocity,  and  the  hostility  to  such  as 
resisted  it,  would  be  fatal.  The  House  of  Commons 
would  destroy  the  protection  of  island  produce,  and 
interfere  on  English  politics  in  the  island  legislation : 
so  they  hastened  to  make  the  best  of  their  position, 
and  accepted  the  bill. 

These  considerations,  I  doubt  not,  had  their 
weight,  the  interest  of  trade,  the  interest  of  the  rev 
enue,  and,  moreover,  the  good  fame  of  the  action. 
It  was  inevitable  that  men  should  feel  these  motives. 
But  they  do  not  appear  to  have  had  an  excessive  or 
unreasonable  weight.  On  reviewing  this  history,  I 
think  the  whole  transaction  reflects  infinite  honor  on 
the  people  and  parliament  of  England.  It  was  a 
stately  spectacle,  to  see  the  cause  of  human  rights 
argued  with  so  much  patience  and  generosity,  and 
with  such  a  mass  of  evidence  before  that  powerful 
people.  It  is  a  creditable  incident  in  the  history, 
that  when,  in  1789,  the  first  privy-council  report  of 
evidence  on  the  trade,  a  bulky  folio,  (embodying  all 
the  facts  which  the  London  Committee  had  been 
engaged  for  years  in  collecting,  and  all  the  examina 
tions  before  the  council,)  was  presented  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  a  late  day  being  named  for  the  discus 
sion,  in  order  to  give  members  time,  —  Mr.  Wil- 
berforce,  Mr.  Pitt,  the  prime  minister,  and  other 
gentlemen,  took  advantage  of  the  postponement,  to 


208  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

retire  into  the  country,  to  read  the  report.  For 
months  and  years  the  bill  was  debated,  with  some 
consciousness  of  the  extent  of  its  relations  by  the 
first  citizens  of  England,  the  foremost  men  of  the 
earth ;  every  argument  was  weighed,  every  particle 
of  evidence  was  sifted,  and  laid  in  the  scale ;  and  at 
last,  the  right  triumphed,  the  poor  man  was  vindi 
cated,  and  the  oj>pressor  was 'flung  out.  I  know  that 
England  has  the  advantage  of  trying  the  question  at 
a  wide  distance  from  the  spot  where  the  nuisance 
exists :  the  planters  are  not,  excepting  in  rare  exam 
ples,  members  of  the  legislature.  The  extent  of  the 
empire,  and  the  magnitude  and  number  of  other 
questions  crowding  into  court,  keep  this  one  in  bal 
ance,  and  prevent  it  from  obtaining  that  ascendency, 
and  being  urged  with  that  intemperance,  which  a 
question  'of  property  tends  to  acquire.  There  are 
causes  in  the  composition  of  the  British  legislature, 
and  the  relation  of  its  leaders  to  the  country  and  to 
Europe,  which  exclude  much  that  is  pitiful  and  inju 
rious  in  other  legislative  assemblies.  From  these 
reasons,  the  question  was  discussed  with  a  rare  inde 
pendence  and  magnanimity.  It  was  not  narrowed 
down  to  a  paltry  electioneering  trap,  and,  I  must  say, 
a  delight  in  justice,  an  honest  tenderness  for  the  poor 
negro,  for  man  suffering  these  wrongs,  combined 
with  the  national  pride,  which  refused  to  give  the 
support  of  English  soil,  or  the  protection  of  the  Eng 
lish  flag,  to  these  disgusting  violations  of  nature. 

Forgive  me,  fellow-citizens,  if  I  own  to  you,  that 
in  the  last  few  days  that  my  attention  has  been  oc 
cupied  with  this  history,  I  have  not  been  able  to  read 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  209 

a  page  of  it,  without  the  most  painful  comparisons. 
Whilst  I  have  read  of  England,  I  have  thought  of 
New  England.  Whilst  I  have  meditated  in  my  soli 
tary  walks  on  the  magnanimity  of  the  English  Bench 
and  Senate,  reaching  out  the  benefit  of  the  law  to 
the  most  helpless  citizen  in  her  world-wide  realm, 
I  have  found  myself  oppressed  by  other  thoughts. 
As  I  have  walked  in  the  pastures  and  along  the  edge 
of  woods,  I  could  not  keep  my  imagination  on  those 
agreeable  figures,  for  other  images  that  intruded  on 
me.  I  could  not  see  the  great  vision  of  the  patriots 
and  senators  who  have  adopted  the  slave's  cause :  — 
they  turned  their  backs  on  me.  No :  I  see  other 
pictures  —  of  mean  men :  I  see  very  poor,  very  ill- 
clothed,  very  ignorant  men,  not  surrounded  by  happy 
friends,  —  to  be  plain, — poor  black  men  of  obscure 
employment  as  mariners,  cooks,  or  stewards,  in  ships, 
yet  citizens  of  this  our  commonwealth  of  Massachu 
setts, —  freeborn  as  we, — whom  the  slave-laws  of 
the  States  of  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Louisiana, 
have  arrested  in  the  vessels  in  which  they  visited 
those  ports,  and  shut  up  in  jails  so  long  as  the  vessel 
remained  in  port,  with  the  stringent  addition,  that  if 
the  shipmaster  fails  to  pay  the  costs  of  this  official 
arrest,  and  the  board  in  jail,  these  citizens  are  to  be 
sold  for  slaves,  to  pay  that  expense.  This  man, 
these  men,  I  see,  and  no  law  to  save  them.  Fellow- 
citizens,  this  crime  will  not  be  hushed  up  any  longer. 
I  have  learned  that  a  citizen  of  Nantucket,  walking 
in  New  Orleans,  found  a  freeborn  citizen  of  Nan- 
tucket,  a  man,  too,  of  great  personal  worth,  and,  as 
it  happened,  very  dear  to  him,  as  having  saved  his 


210  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

own  life,  working  chained  in  the  streets  of  that  city, 
kidnapped  by  such  a  process  as  this.  In  the  sleep  of 
the  laws,  the  private  interference  of  two  excellent 
citizens  of  Boston  has,  I  have  ascertained,  rescued 
several  natives  of  this  State  from  these  southern 
prisons.  Gentlemen,  I  thought  the  deck  of  a  Mas 
sachusetts  ship  was  as  much  the  territory  of  Massa 
chusetts,  as  the  floor  on  which  we  stand.  It  should 
be  as  sacred  as  the  temple  of  God.  The  poorest 
fishing-smack,  that  floats  under  the  shadow  of  an 
iceberg  in  the  northern  seas,  or  hunts  the  whale 
in  the  southern  ocean,  should  be  encompassed  by 
her  laws  with  comfort  and  protection,  as  much  as 
within  the  arms  of  Cape  Ann  and  Cape  Cod.  And 
this  kidnapping  is  suffered  within  our  own  land  and 
federation,  whilst  the  fourth  article  of  the  Constitu 
tion  of  the  United  States  ordains  in  terms,  that, 
"The  citizens  of  each  State  shall  be  entitled  to  all 
privileges  and  immunities  of  citizens  in  the  several 
States."  If  such  a  damnable  outrage  can  be  com 
mitted  on  the  person  of  a  citizen  with  impunity,  let 
the  Governor  break  the  broad  seal  of  the  State ;  he 
bears  the  sword  in  vain.  The  Governor  of  Massa 
chusetts  is  a  trifler :  the  State-house  in  Boston  is  a 
play-house  :  the  General  Court  is  a  dishonored  body  : 
if  they  make  laws  which  they  cannot  execute.  The 
great-hearted  Puritans  have  left  no  posterity.  The 
rich  men  may  walk  in  State-street,  but  they  walk 
without  honor ;  and  the  farmers  may  brag  their  de 
mocracy  in  the  country,  but  they  are  disgraced  men. 
If  the  State  has  no  power  to  defend  its  own  people 
in  its  own  shipping,  because  it  has  delegated  that 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  21 1 

power  to  the  Federal  Government,  has  it  no  repre 
sentation  in  the  Federal  Government?  Are  those 
men  dumb?  I  am  no  lawyer,  and  cannot  indicate 
the  forms  applicable  to  the  case,  but  here  is  some 
thing  which  transcends  all  forms.  Let  the  senators 
and  representatives  of  the  State,  containing  a  popu 
lation  of  a  million  freemen,  go  in  a  body  before  the 
Congress,  and  say,  that  they  have  a  demand  to  make 
on  them  so  imperative,  that  all  functions  of  govern 
ment  must  stop  until  it  is  satisfied.  If  ordinary 
legislation  cannot  reach  it,  then  extraordinary  must 
be  applied.  The  Congress  should  instruct  the  Presi 
dent  to  send  to  those  ports  of  Charleston,  Savan 
nah,  and  New  Orleans,  such  orders  and  such  force, 
as  should  release,  forthwith,  all  such  citizens  of  Mas 
sachusetts  as  were  holden  in  prison  without  the 
allegation  of  any  crime,  and  should  set  on  foot  the 
strictest  inquisition  to  discover  where  such  persons, 
brought  into  slavery  by  these  local  laws,  at  any  time 
heretofore,  may  now  be.  That  first;  —  and  then, 
let  order  be  taken  to  indemnify  all  such  as  have  been 
incarcerated.  As  for  dangers  to  the  Union,  from 
such  demands  !  —  the  Union  is  already  at  an  end, 
when  the  first  citizen  of  Massachusetts  is  thus  out 
raged.  Is  it  an  union  and  covenant  in  which  the 
State  of  Massachusetts  agrees  to  be  imprisoned,  and 
the  State  of  Carolina  to  imprison  ?  Gentlemen,  I  am 
loath  to  say  harsh  things,  and  perhaps  I  know  too 
little  of  politics  for  the  smallest  weight  to  attach  to 
any  censure  of  mine,  —  but  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  char 
acterize  the  tameness  and  silence  of  the  two  sena 
tors  and  the  ten  representatives  of  the  State  at  Wash- 


212  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

ington.  To  what  purpose,  have  we  clothed  each  of 
those  representatives  with  the  power  of  seventy  thou 
sand  persons,  and  each  senator  with  near  half  a  mil 
lion,  if  they  are  to  sit  dumb  at  their  desks,  and  see 
their  constituents  captured  and  sold  ;  —  perhaps  to 
gentlemen  sitting  by  them  in  the  hall?  There  is  a 
scandalous  rumor  that  has  been  swelling  louder  of 
late  years,  —  perhaps  it  is  wholly  false,  —  that  mem 
bers  are  bullied  into  silence  by  southern  gentlemen. 
It  is  so  easy  to  omit  to  speak,  or  even  to  be  absent 
when  delicate  things  are  to  be  handled.  I  may  as 
well  say  what  all  men  feel,  that  whilst  our  very  ami 
able  and  very  innocent  representatives  and  senators 
at  Washington,  are  accomplished  lawyers  and  mer 
chants,  and  very  eloquent  at  dinners  and  at  caucuses, 
there  is  a  disastrous  want  of  men  from  New  England. 
I  would  gladly  make  exceptions,  and  you  will  not 
suffer  me  to  forget  one  eloquent  old  man,  in  whose 
veins  the  blood  of  Massachusetts  rolls,  and  who 
singly  has  defended  the  freedom  of  speech,  and  the 
rights  of  the  free,  against  the  usurpation  of  the  slave 
holder.  But  the  reader  of  Congressional  debates,  in 
New  England,  is  perplexed  to  see  with  what  admir 
able  sweetness  and  patience  the  majority  of  the  free 
States  are  schooled  and  ridden  by  the  minority  of 
slave-holders.  What  if  we  should  send  thither  rep 
resentatives  who  were  a  particle  less  amiable  and  less 
innocent?  I  entreat  you,  sirs,  let  not  this  stain  at 
tach,  let  not  this  misery  accumulate  any  longer.  If 
the  managers  of  our  political  parties  are  too  prudent 
and  too  cold ;  —  if,  most  unhappily,  the  ambitious 
class  of  young  men  and  political  men  have  found  out, 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  213 

that  these  neglected  victims  are  poor  and  without 
weight;  that  they  have  no  graceful  hospitalities  to 
ofifer ;  no  valuable  business  to  throw  into  any  man's 
hands,  no  strong  vote  to  cast  at  the  elections ;  and 
therefore  may  with  impunity  be  left  in  their  chains  or 
to  the  chance  of  chains,  then  let  the  citizens  in  their 
primary  capacity  take  up  their  cause  on  this  very 
ground,  and  say  to  the  government  of  the  State,  and 
of  the  Union,  that  government  exists  to  defend  the 
weak  and  the  poor  and  the  injured  party ;  the  rich 
and  the  strong  can  better  take  care  of  themselves. 
And  as  an  omen  and  assurance  of  success,  I  point 
you  to  the  bright  example  which  England  set  you, 
on  this  day,  ten  years  ago. 

There  are  other  comparisons  and  other  impera 
tive  duties  which  come  sadly  to  mind,  —  but  I  do 
not  wish  to  darken  the  hours  of  this  day  by  crimi 
nation  ;  I  turn  gladly  to  the  rightful  theme,  to  the 
bright  aspects  of  the  occasion. 

This  event  was  a  moral  revolution.  The  history 
of  it  is  before  you.  Here  was  no  prodigy,  no  fabu 
lous  hero,  no  Trojan  horse,  no  bloody  war,  but  all 
was  achieved  by  plain  means  of  plain  men,  working 
not  under  a  leader,  but  under  a  sentiment.  Other 
revolutions  have  been  the  insurrection  of  the  op 
pressed  ;  this  was  the  repentance  of  the  tyrant.  It 
was  the  masters  revolting  from  their  mastery.  The 
slave-holder  said,  I  will  not  hold  slaves.  The  end 
was  noble,  and  the  means  were  pure.  Hence,  the 
elevation  and  pathos  of  this  chapter  of  history.  The 
lives  of  the  advocates  are  pages  of  greatness,  and 
the  connection  of  the  eminent  senators  with  this 


214  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

question,  constitutes  the  immortalizing  moments  of 
those  men's  lives.  The  bare  enunciation  of  the 
theses,  at  which  the  lawyers  and  legislators  arrived, 
gives  a  glow  to  the  heart  of  the  reader.  Lord 
Chancellor  Northington  is  the  author  of  the  famous 
sentence,  "As  soon  as  any  man  puts  his  foot  on 
English  ground,  he  becomes  free.1'  "  I  was  a  slave,1' 
said  the  counsel  of  Somerset,  speaking  for  his  client, 
"  for  I  was  in  America  :  I  am  now  in  a  country,  where 
the  common  rights  of  mankind  are  known  and  re 
garded."  Granville  Sharpe  filled  the  ear  of  the 
judges  with  the  sound  principles,  that  had  from  time 
to  time  been  affirmed  by  the  legal  authorities. 
"Derived  power  cannot  be  superior  to  the  power 
from  which  it  is  derived."  "  The  reasonableness  of 
the  law  is  the  soul  of  the  law."  "It  is  better  to 
suffer  every  evil,  than  to  consent  to  any."  Out  it 
would  come,  the  God's  truth,  out  it  came,  like  a  bolt 
from  a  cloud,  for  all  the  mumbling  of  the  lawyers. 
One  feels  very  sensibly  in  all  this  history  that  a  great 
heart  and  soul  are  behind  there,  superior  to  any  man, 
and  making  use  of  each,  in  turn,  and  infinitely  at 
tractive  to  every  person  according  to  the  degree  of 
reason  in  his  own  mind,  so  that  this  cause  has  had 
the  power  to  draw  to  it  every  particle  of  talent  and 
of  worth  in  England,  from  the  beginning.  All  the 
great  geniuses  of  the  British  senate,  Fox,  Pitt,  Burke, 
Grenville,  Sheridan,  Grey,  Canning,  ranged  them 
selves  on  its  side :  the  poet  Cowper  wrote  for  it : 
Franklin,  Jefferson,  Washington,  in  this  country,  all 
recorded  their  votes.  All  men  remember  the  sub 
tlety  and  the  fire  of  indignation,  wrhich  the  Edinburgh 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  215 

Review  contributed  to  the  cause;  and  every  liberal 
mind,  poet,  preacher,  moralist,  statesman,  has  had 
the  fortune  to  appear  somewhere  for  this  cause.  On 
the  other  part,  appeared  the  reign  of  pounds  and 
shillings,  and  all  manner  of  rage  and  stupidity;  a 
resistance  which  drew  from  Mr.  Huddlestone  in  Par 
liament  the  observation,  "  That  a  curse  attended  this 
trade  even  in  the  mode  of  defending  it.  By  a  certain 
fatality,  none  but  the  vilest  arguments  were  brought 
forward,  which  corrupted  the  very  persons  who  used 
them.  Every  one  of  these  was  built  on  the  narrow 
ground  of  interest,  of  pecuniary  profit,  of  sordid  gain, 
in  opposition  to  every  motive  that  had  reference  to 
humanity,  justice,  and  religion,  or  to  that  great  prin 
ciple  which  comprehended  them  all."  —  This  moral 
force  perpetually  reinforces  and  dignifies  the  friends 
of  this  cause.  It  gave  that  tenacity  to  their  point 
which  has  insured  ultimate  triumph  ;  and  it  gave  that 
superiority  in  reason,  in  imagery,  in  eloquence,  which 
makes  in  all  countries  anti-slavery  meetings  so  at 
tractive  to  the  people,  and  has  made  it  a  proverb  in 
Massachusetts,  that,  "  eloquence  is  dog-cheap  at  the 
anti-slavery  chapel ! " 

I  will  say  further,  that  we  are  indebted  mainly  to 
this  movement,  and  to  the  continuers  of  it,  for  the 
popular  discussion  of  every  point  of  practical  ethics, 
and  a  reference  of  every  question  to  the  absolute 
standard.  It  is  notorious,  that  the  political,  relig 
ious,  and  social  schemes,  with  which  the  minds  of 
men  are  now  most  occupied,  have  been  matured,  or 
at  least  broached,  in  the  free  and  daring  discussions 
of  these  assemblies.  Men  have  become  aware 


216  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

through  the  emancipation,  and  kindred  events,  of 
the  presence  of  powers,  which,  in  their  days  of 
darkness,  they  had  overlooked.  Virtuous  men  will 
not  again  rely  on  political  agents.  They  have  found 
out  the  deleterious  effect  of  political  association. 
Up  to  this  day,  we  have  allowed  to  statesmen  a  para 
mount  social  standing,  and  we  bow  low  to  them  as 
to  the  great.  We  cannot  extend  this  deference  to 
them  any  longer.  The  secret  cannot  be  kept,  that 
the  seats  of  power  are  filled  by  underlings,  ignorant, 
timid,  and  selfish,  to  a  degree  to  destroy  all  claim, 
excepting  that  on  compassion,  to  the  society  of  the 
just  and  generous.  What  happened  notoriously  to 
an  American  ambassador  in  England,  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  palter,  and  to  disguise  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  slave-breeder,  happens  to  men  of  state. 
Their  vocation  is  a  presumption  against  them,  among 
well-meaning  people.  The  superstition  respecting 
power  and  office,  is  going  to  the  ground.  The 
stream  of  human  affairs  flows  its  own  way,  and  is 
very  little  affected  by  the  activity  of  legislators. 
What  great  masses  of  men  wish  done,  will  be  done ; 
and  they  do  not  wish  it  for  a  freak,  but  because  it 
is  their  state  and  natural  end.  There  are  now  other 
energies  than  force,  other  than  political,  which  no 
man  in  future  can  allow  himself  to  disregard.  There 
is  direct  conversation  and  influence.  A  man  is  to 
make  himself  felt,  by  his  proper  force.  The  ten 
dency  of  things  runs  steadily  to  this  point,  namely, 
to  put  every  man  on  his  merits,  and  to  give  him  so 
much  power  as  he  naturally  exerts —  no  more,  no  less. 
Of  course,  the  timid  and  base  persons,  all  who  are 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  217 

conscious  of  no  worth  in  themselves,  and  who  owe 
all  their  place  to  the  opportunities  which  the  old 
order  of  things  allowed  them  to  deceive  and  defraud 
men,  shudder  at  the  change,  and  would  fain  silence 
every  honest  voice,  and  lock  up  every  house  where 
liberty  and  innovation  can  be  pleaded  for.  They 
would  raise  mobs,  for  fear  is  very  cruel.  But  the 
strong  and  healthy  yeomen  and  husbands  of  the  land, 
the  self-sustaining  class  of  inventive  and  industrious 
men,  fear  no  competition  or  superiority.  Come  what 
will,  their  faculty  cannot  be  spared. 

The  first  of  August  marks  the  entrance  of  a  new 
element  into  modern  politics,  namely,  the  civiliza 
tion  of"  the  negro.  A  man  is  added  to  the  human 
family.  Not  the  least  affecting  part  of  this  history 
of  abolition,  is,  the  annihilation  of  the  old  indecent 
nonsense  about  the  nature  of  the  negro.  In  the 
case  of  the  ship  Zong,  in  1781,  whose  master  had 
thrown  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  slaves  alive  into 
the  sea,  to  cheat  the  underwriters,  the  first  jury 
gave  a  verdict  in  favor  of  the  master  and  owners: 
they  had  a  right  to  do  what  they  had  done.  Lord 
Mansfield  is  reported  to  have  said  on  the  bench, 
"  The  matter  left  to  the  jury  is,  —  Was  it  from  neces 
sity  ?  For  they  had  no  doubt,  —  though  it  shocks 
one  very  much,  —  that  the  case  of  slaves  was  the 
same  as  if  horses  had  been  thrown  overboard.  It  is 
a  very  shocking  case."  But  a  more  enlightened  and 
humane  opinion  began  to  prevail.  Mr.  Clarkson, 
early  in  his  career,  made  a  collection  of  African  pro 
ductions  and  manufactures,  as  specimens  of  the  arts 
and  culture  of  the  negro;  comprising  cloths  and 


2l8  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

loom,  weapons,  polished  stones  and  woods,  leather, 
glass,  dyes,  ornaments,  soap,  pipe-bowls,  and  trin 
kets.  These  he  showed  to  Mr.  Pitt,  who  saw  and 
handled  them  with  extreme  interest.  "  On  sight  of 
these,"  says  Clarkson,  "  many  sublime  thoughts 
seemed  to  rush  at  once  into  his  mind,  some  of  which 
he  expressed  :  "  and  hence  appeared  to  rise  a  project 
which  was  always  dear  to  him,  of  the  civilization  of 
Africa,  —  a  dream  which  forever  elevates  his  fame. 
In  1791,  Mr.  Wilberforce  announced  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  "We  have  already  gained  one  victory: 
we  have  obtained  for  these  poor  creatures  the  recog 
nition  of  their  human  nature,  which  for  a  time,  was 
most  shamefully  denied  them."  It  was  the  sarcasm 
of  Montesquieu,  "it  would  not  do  to  suppose  that 
negroes  were  men,  lest  it  should  turn  out  that  whites 
were  not ;  "  for  the  white  has,  for  ages,  done  what  he 
could  to  keep  the  negro  in  that  hoggish  state.  His 
laws  have  been  furies.  It  now  appears,  that  the 
negro  race  is,  more  than  any  other,  susceptible  of 
rapid  civilization.  The  emancipation  is  observed,  in 
the  islands,  to  have  wrought  for  the  negro  a  benefit 
as  sudden  as  when  a  thermometer  is  brought  out  of 
the  shade  into  the  sun.  It  has  given  him  eyes  and 
ears.  If,  before,  he  was  taxed  with  such  stupidity, 
or  such  defective  vision,  that  he  could  not  set  a  table 
square  to  the  walls  of  an  apartment,  he  is  now  the 
principal,  if  not  the  only  mechanic,  in  the  West 
Indies ;  and  is,  besides,  an  architect,  a  physician,  a 
lawyer,  a  magistrate,  an  editor,  and  a  valued  and 
increasing  political  power.  The  recent  testimonies 
"of  Sturge,  of  Thome  and  Kimball,  of  Gurney,  of 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  219 

Philippe,  are  very  explicit  on  this  point,  the  capacity 
and  the  success  of  the  colored  and  the  black  popula 
tion  in  employments  of  skill,  of  profit,  and  of  trust ; 
and,  best  of  all,  is  the  testimony  to  their  moderation. 
They  receive  hints  and  advances  from  the  whites, 
that  they  will  be  gladly  received  as  subscribers  to  the 
Exchange,  as  members  of  this  or  that  committee  of 
trust.  They  hold  back,  and  say  to  each  other,  that 
"  social  position  is  not  to  be  gained  by  pushing." 

I  have  said  that  this  event  interests  us  because  it 
came  mainly  from  the  concession  of  the  whites;  I 
add,  that  in  part  it  is  the  earning  of  the  blacks. 
They  won  the  pity  and  respect  which  they  have  re 
ceived,  by  their  powers  and  native  endowments.  I 
think  this  a  circumstance  of  the  highest  import. 
Their  whole  future  is  in  it.  Our  planet,  before  the 
age  of  written  history,  had  its  races  of  savages,  like 
the  generations  of  sour  paste,  or  the  animalcules  that 
wriggle  and  bite  in  a  drop  of  putrid  water.  Who 
cares  for  these  or  for  their  wars  ?  We  do  not  wish 
a  world  of  bugs  or  of  birds;  neither  afterward  of 
Scythians,  Caraibs,  or  Feejees.  The  grand  style  of 
nature,  her  great  periods,  is  all  we  observe  in  them. 
Who  cares  for  oppressing  whites,  or  oppressed 
blacks,  twenty  centuries  ago,  more  than  for  bad 
dreams?  Eaters  and  food  are  in  the  harmony  of 
nature ;  and  there  too  is  the  germ  forever  protected, 
unfolding  gigantic  leaf  after  leaf,  a  newer  flower,  a 
richer  fruit,  in  every  period,  yet  its  next  product  is 
never  to  be  guessed.  It  will  only  save  what  is  worth 
saving;  and  it  saves  not  by  compassion,  but  by 
power.  It  appoints  no  police  to  guard  the  lion,  but 


220  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

his  teeth  and  claws  ;  no  fort  or  city  for  the  bird,  but 
his  wings ;  no  rescue  for  flies  and  mites  but  their 
spawning  numbers,  which  no  ravages  can  overcome. 
It  deals  with  men  after  the  same  manner.  If  they 
are  rude  and  foolish,  do\vn  they  must  go.  When  at 
last  in  a  race,  a  new  principle  appears,  an  idea,  — 
that  conserves  it ;  ideas  only  save  races.  If  the  black 
man  is  feeble,  and  not  important  to  the  existing 
races,  not  on  a  parity  with  the  best  race,  the  black 
man  must  serve,  and  be  exterminated.  But  if  the 
black  man  carries  in  his  bosom  an  indispensable 
element  of  a  new  and  coming  civilization,  for  the 
sake  of  that  element,  no  wrong,  nor  strength,  nor 
circumstance,  can  hurt  him  :  he  will  survive  and  play 
his  part.  So  now,  the  arrival  in  the  world  of  such 
men  as  Toussaint,  and  the  Haytian  heroes,  or  of  the 
leaders  of  their  race  in  Barbadoes  and  Jamaica,  out 
weighs  in  good  omen  all  the  English  and  American 
humanity.  The  anti-slavery  of  the  whole  world,  is 
dust  in  the  balance  before  this,  —  is  a  poor  squeam- 
ishness  and  nervousness :  the  might  and  the  right 
are  here :  here  is  the  anti-slave :  here  is  man :  and 
if  you  have  ma/i,  black  or  white  is  an  insignificance. 
The  intellect,  —  that  is  miraculous!  Who  has  it,  has 
the  talisman :  his  skin  and  bones,  though  they  were 
of  the  color  of  night,  are  transparent,  and  the  ever 
lasting  stars  shine  through,  with  attractive  beams. 
But  a  compassion  for  that  which  is  not  and  cannot  be 
useful  or  lovely,  is  degrading  and  futile.  All  the 
songs,  and  newspapers,  and  money-subscriptions, 
and  vituperation  of  such  as  do  not  think  with  us,  will 
avail  nothing  against  a  fact.  I  say  to  you,  you  must 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS.  221 

save  yourself,  black  or  white,  man  or  woman ;  other 
help  is  none.  I  esteem  the  occasion  of  this  jubilee 
to  be  the  proud  discovery,  that  the  black  race  can 
contend  with  the  white ;  that,  in  the  great  anthem 
which  we  call  history,  a  piece  of  many  parts  and  vast 
compass,  after  playing  a  long  time  a  very  low  and 
subdued  accompaniment,  they  perceive  the  time 
arrived  when  they  can  strike  in  with  effect,  and  take 
a  master's  part  in  the  music.  The  civility  of  the 
world  has  reached  that  pitch,  that  their  more  moral 
genius  is  becoming  indispensable,  and  the  quality  of 
this  race  is  to  be  honored  for  itself.  For  this,  they 
have  been  preserved  in  sandy  deserts,  in  rice-swamps, 
in  kitchens  and  shoe-shops,  so  long :  now  let  them 
emerge,  clothed,  and  in  their  own  form. 

There  remains  the  very  elevated  consideration 
which  the  subject  opens,  but  which  belongs  to  more 
abstract  views  than  we  are  now  taking,  this  namely, 
that  the  civility  of  no  race  can  be  perfect  whilst  an 
other  race  is  degraded.  It  is  a  doctrine  alike  of  the 
oldest,  and  of  the  newest  philosophy,  that,  man  is 
one,  and  that  you  cannot  injure  any  member,  without 
a  sympathetic  injury  to  all  the  members.  America 
is  not  civil,  whilst  Africa  is  barbarous. 

These  considerations  seem  to  leave  no  choice  for 
the  action  of  the  intellect  and  the  conscience  of  the 
country.  There  have  been  moments  in  this,  as  well 
as  in  every  piece  of  moral  history,  when  there  seemed 
room  for  the  infusions  of  a  sceptical  philosophy; 
when  it  seemed  doubtful,  whether  brute  force  would 
not  triumph  in  the  eternal  struggle.  I  doubt  not, 
that  sometimes  a  despairing  negro,  when  jumping 


222  EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS. 

over  the  ship's  sides  to  escape  from  the  white  devils 
who  surrounded  him,  has  believed  there  was  no  vin 
dication  of  right;  it  is  horrible  to  think  of,  but  it 
seemed  so.  I  doubt  not,  that  sometimes  the  negro1s 
friend,  in  the  face  of  scornful  and  brutal  hundreds  of 
traders  and  drivers,  has  felt  his  heart  sink.  Espe 
cially,  it  seems  to  me,  some  degree  of  despondency 
is  pardonable,  when  he  observes  the  men  of  con 
science  and  of  intellect,  his  own  natural  allies  and 
champions,  —  those  whose  attention  should  be  nailed 
to  the  grand  objects  of  this  cause,  so  hotly  offended 
by  whatever  incidental  petulances  or  infirmities  of 
indiscreet  defenders  of  the  negro,  as  to  permit  them 
selves  to  be  ranged  with  the  enemies  of  the  human 
race ;  and  names  which  should  be  the  alarums  of 
liberty  and  the  watchwords  of  truth,  are  mixed  up 
with  all  the  rotten  rabble  of  selfishness  and  tyranny. 
I  assure  myself  that  this  coldness  and  blindness  will 
pass  away.  A  single  noble  wind  of  sentiment  will 
scatter  them  forever.  I  am  sure  that  the  good  and 
wise  elders,  the  ardent  and  generous  youth  will  not 
permit  what  is  incidental  and  exceptional  to  withdraw 
their  devotion  from  the  essential  and  permanent  char 
acters  of  the  question.  There  have  been  moments, 
I  said,  when  men  might  be  forgiven,  who  doubted. 
Those  moments  are  past.  Seen  in  masses,  it  cannot 
be  disputed,  there  is  progress  in  human  society. 
There  is  a  blessed  necessity  by  which  the  interest  of 
men  is  always  driving  them  to  the  right ;  and,  again, 
making  all  crime  mean  and  ugly.  The  genius  of  the 
Saxon  race,  friendly  to  liberty;  the  enterprise,  the 
very  muscular  vigor  of  this  nation,  are  inconsistent 


EMANCIPATION  ADDRESS,  223 

with  slavery.  The  Intellect,  with  blazing  eye,  look 
ing  through  history  from  the  beginning  onward, 
gazes  on  this  blot,  and  it  disappears.  The  sentiment 
of  Right,  once  very  low  and  indistinct,  but  ever  more 
articulate,  because  it  is  the  voice  of  the  universe,  pro 
nounces  Freedom.  The  Power  that  built  this  fabric 
of  things  affirms  it  in  the  heart ;  and  in  the  history 
of  the  First  of  August,  has  made  a  sign  to  the 
a^es  of  his  will. 


THE   END. 


-- 

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,U      ^r~"  ' 


» 


II 11' 


